


neither would suffice

by idlesong



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Frenemies, Gen, Heaven & Hell, M/M, Purgatory, Slow Burn, yukhei needs a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14107125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesong/pseuds/idlesong
Summary: Yukhei may be the devil, but he’ll be damned if he lets heaven take another soul.Or, how Donghyuck’s arrival in limbo causes everything to collapse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first attempt in a long time to write something chaptered! this idea came entirely from [this brilliant tweet](https://twitter.com/realnajaemin/status/975902062511820800) that i thought about for a full 3 days before finally deciding to sit down and write it. also rated T for some swearing and also what i expect to be a dick joke or two in the future because i am juvenile.
> 
> to clarify: jungwoo and yukhei aren’t the creators of heaven and hell, but they are the highest ranking in their respective administrations and oversee their realms. all nct members will, at some point, be making an appearance, big and small. i don’t have many other pairings projected in my notes for this fic besides some blink-and-you’ll-miss it yuwin.
> 
> uhhh this is about heaven & hell but there won't be many religious themes and the universe doesn't adhere to any one faith's conceptions of the afterlife. i will say tho in my head doyoung is literally the fallen angel b/c he was in heaven, got bored of it, and argued his way into getting a job in hell instead.

It flickers. A wisp of curiosity, that small flame of chaos. How it waves in the palm of his hand was endlessly fascinating. Hardly anything was interesting anymore. There were instances where an odd challenge was presented but those occupied such little time. Everything was stamped out, there was little to be thought of as fascinating. He could indulge himself, fulfill the purpose of his existence in the one place he had only ever known. The concern remained. What if, as those on the other side predicted snidely, he would find that even his bottomless pleasures had limits? That would explain why they called _this_ the bad place.

_”Yukhei."_

There again, the call of his name. It was nauseating in its insistence, but it remained unknown to whom the voice belonged. The one unknown of his being. Longing permeated through the foggy acknowledgement of its existence, a longing that could hardly be sated even in the most nefarious trenches of hell. 

"Yukhei."

Once more, but it grows familiar. Could the source be revealing itself to him?

"Yukhei!"

So recognizable, it now was. Was this mystery about to resolve itself? The possibility had him ready to burrow into his trough of needing more. He needs more than just this, but this is all he has. He didn’t want the conundrum to go away.

“Yukhei! Boss! Chief! Stop dreaming already, we have to go!" the voice drones on, and he comes to an abrupt realization that it's Renjun calling his name, shaking his shoulders to break him out of his unbounded reveries.

"I'm busy," Yukhei says curtly, his face buried between the folded arms laid up on his desk. "Get me later or take Jisung.”

“Jisung’s _actually_ busy. You promised you’d help me with this!" Renjun insists, lifting the archfiend's head by a fist full of hair. "It's...It's Donghyuck’s time. Quick, before he gets pulled into judgement.”

"D...Donghyuck?" Yukhei repeats dumbly, to Renjun's exasperated chagrin as he releases his superior’s hair, causing Yukhei to slam his forehead against the wooden surface of the desk. If doesn’t hurt, but the dull thud is enough to make him lazily draw his gaze up to the younger demon. 

“Hurry up, _please_. If we lose this one I won't forgive you," Renjun says, now tugging at his sleeve with an impatience with which Yukhei was far too familiar.

"Fine," Yukhei replies flatly, sighing defeatedly. Another distraction, he was fully aware, would only be temporary. The sooner this was over the sooner he could return to his wallowing. It was a sort of stirring his own broth of pity kind of wallowing. A self-induced bout of misery that existed as a friend when he needed it. It was the closest thing the devil could get to actual rest.

 

The realm of the between never changes. It’s limbo, after all. There was nothing _to_ change. All that moved was the endless procession of souls that drifted through, were pointed towards one direction or the other by the one being who held authority over it. 

Yukhei doesn’t really like spending time in purgatory. It’s soft but it’s gloomy, barely grey like clouds from which few droplets would fall. It feels like it’s always about to rain here. Hell was so much more comforting, with its constant white noise of crackling fire and warm tones of amber that lit a pride inside of Yukhei every time he remembered it was his.

Hell had its shitty rap for being evil and whatnot, but it wasn’t like that at all. All the truly evil were locked deep away in the inferno, left there until they faded into _mū_. Nothingness. No one knew how long it took for someone to move from this realm to that one, only that there _was_ no realm on the other side to speak of.   

If Yukhei ever had a reason to pass by—which was rare, because even the devil has his fears—he could hear the faint sounds of torment. They weren’t voices, since you didn’t get to retain your body, but he could sense the pain. It wasn’t a physical one, the rumours went, it was one that stamped every essence of your being into inexistence. 

Rarely did a non-evil soul have to suffer that, but once a millenium there would be some story of an angel or demon whose actions caused them to be sent straight to the inferno. An unexplained disappearance of any sort was solved by that rumour, and the premier of purgatory would never admit it himself.

Yukhei thinks hell should be commended for taking on the brunt of the bad. It’s not like any of those fastidious angels ever thanked him or his demons for doing the dirty work. Hell was fine, nice even, if you were happy with its premise, and you had to be if you were sent there in the first place. Any memories of your life on earth would go on to fade, but your mind and spirit were left intact, as well as your body if you so wished. Or, in the case you were part of the bureaucracy, if you needed one for ease of interaction and mobility.

“How do you find anyone like this?” Yukhei asks as he and Renjun walk through the never-ending zone of fog. There were spirits in the midst, he was aware, but he wasn’t as sharp as Renjun (and usually Jisung) to catch them as quickly as he could. This wasn’t Yukhei’s usual responsibility, but hell would be fine in his short absence.

“It’s easy when you have a name and a face. It’s like getting someone’s attention in a crowd,” Renjun explains as they walk on. The fact that Yukhei might literally be walking through other people’s souls right now creeps him out. Supposedly the spirits in the vicinity are seeing something entirely different right now, reliving their memories to absolve themselves of lingering attachments. It makes the air heavy, this realization that this is where human splits from humanity. What remains is the humanity, of course. 

Humans themselves are too messy, they’re too inclined to ruin things for the sake of their own selfish purposes, Yukhei thinks. He’d much rather stay as he was, even if it meant the occasional bouts of boredom in his long, long existence.

The atmosphere grows significantly lighter, as does the colour of the realm, when they finally reach the point at which limbo splits. The both of them have to fly up to reach the top of the premier’s desk, much taller than any of them but necessary height for someone of his stature. Both Yukhei and Renjun marvel at the presence of the authoritative figure for a moment, before the former nudges his subordinate’s shoulder in a reminder to bow in greeting.

“We’re sorry to disturb you. Has Lee Donghyuck arrived yet?” Renjun asks, his nervousness apparent in the restless beat of his wings. The premier of purgatory was intimidating. His set-up had something to do with it: the ginormous desk and chair and large book (of infinite pages that kept neat record of about just every person that had ever existed) made even Yukhei cower in its immensity. To be on his good side was, and Yukhei didn’t say this lightly, a blessing.

“He’ll be here soon,” Chenle says, his eyes never leaving the page of names in front of him. “Another double-claim, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” Yukhei says, nodding his head obediently despite barely having any of Chenle’s attention. He didn’t take chances when it came to Chenle, not when he was supposedly the only one who could banish anyone into _mū_ if they really tried it. 

“There!” Renjun shouts suddenly, making a grabbing motion with his hand that causes it to flash bright yellow. Some force is pulled forward towards them, Yukhei can only sense it by the accompanying gust of wind. With another trained wave of his hand, Renjun casts tangibility to the spirit.

Donghyuck retains a human form once more. As expected, he looks shocked. Yukhei taps his foot impatiently, not liking to dawdle. He’s been through this process far too many times to be courteous towards newly bodied souls. The boy looks towards Renjun, then Yukhei, then up to Chenle with great confusion apparent in his eyes. He flips his hands from back to palm multiple times to examine them. 

“Hello, Lee Donghyuck. We’ve been watching you closely during your life in the world of the living, and now we request that you join us in the world of chaos,” Renjun starts, his usual spiel rolling off his tongue, precise and practiced. Yukhei had insisted that there wasn’t a need for such a thing, but Doyoung had insisted that structure to it all would expedite the process, give greater clarity to the souls, et cetera. “Essentially we’d like you to become a demon of the underworld. It’s a wonderful way to spend your afterlife.”

Donghyuck is silent to all this. The only reaction he has is to rub his eyes, as though he had just waken up from a long sleep. Yukhei sighs. Humans are so predictable. He wishes they could wrench this boy by the arm back to hell already, but the souls had to consent. Had they decided to reject their offer, they were free to be sent where they were meant to be by Chenle.

Chenle was apathetic to the interaction between hell’s officials and Donghyuck, all of his concentration zeroed in on his casual gestures directing incoming spirits this way or that. As the only authority of limbo, Chenle never got any rest, as far as Yukhei knew, not that he, or any of them, needed any. 

“What’s going on?” Donghyuck mumbles, still looking entirely disoriented.

“We want you to come with us, Donghyuck. To the most heavenly place in hell,” Renjun chirps, patting him on the back with an open palm.

“H-Hell?” Donghyuck asks, the realization dawning on him that he was no longer of the living world. There’s a panic in his voice now, and he’s frantically looking at his surroundings, to Yukhei and Renjun’s less-than-human black wings, to the great distance between his feet and the misty floor he could barely see beneath them. “I’m going to hell? Was I that bad?”

Yukhei sighs—that old assumption again. With all he was capable of in meddling with the humans, he could rarely find a way to alter their misleading, incorrect points of view on hell. Perhaps if they realized it wasn’t as bad as they believed, it would be easier to convince the odd demon-elect to join them. They didn’t come around very often at all.

“Hell’s not bad at all, as you’ll come to see,” Renjun assures Donghyuck before gesturing to Yukhei. “The ruler of hell’s personally accompanied me to welcome you!”

Yukhei gives Donghyuck a half-hearted smile and wave.

“The ruler…The devil?” Donghyuck asks with incredulity. “He barely looks older than me!”

“I’m immortal, you brat,” Yukhei scowls. “And you are too now.”

Renjun’s about to interject with what Yukhei’s sure will be an attempt at rectifying the situation, but all three of them are suddenly distracted.

“Ah, Mark—they beat us here!” a voice groans in disappointment below them. Yukhei turns his head to see two of heaven’s precious little accompanying angels flying up to where they are. All of the angels felt superior about being from their realm, Yukhei knew, having the audacity to pick on _his_ demons about it. How good of an angel could you be if you had the gall to tease someone as baby-faced as Jisung’s? Heathens.

Mark and Jeno, in their always pristine white uniforms and obnoxiously glowing feathered wings, look devastated at their tardy arrival. “Are you kidding me?” Mark asks with a frown.

“Sucks to suck, losers!” Renjun shouts victoriously, sticking his tongue out at them. Yukhei should, as the devil himself, not condone this kind of behaviour from one of his highest ranking demons, but he takes it one step further and flips them off. The angels look appalled.

“So, Donghyuck. What do you say? Would you like to come back with us to hell and get away from these preppy nerds?” Yukhei asks, slinging an arm snug around Donghyuck’s shoulders. The latter still looks apprehensive, but less frightened than before. Some classic peer pressure should never be ruled out as a negotiating tactic, Yukhei thinks. He had only met Mark and Jeno a handful of times in their extended careers adjacent to each other’s, but he knew they were adored up there, well taken care of by their superiors for their diligence and virtue. Taking them down a peg would be satisfying.

“Not so fast, we have a divine intervention,” Jeno says, smug as he retrieves a folded up note from his pocket, the paper practically sparkling against the monochrome backdrop of limbo. “Trial of the realms.”

Yukhei’s jaw drops. He didn’t sign up for this, to be contractually obligated to stick around for the long, drawn out process that a trial of the realms required. He just wanted to go back to hell, crawl into a ball on the sofa of his office, and be in his feelings for the next century or two. Was that too much to ask for? “You have got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” he deadpans.

As Jeno flies towards Chenle to show him their appeal, Mark looks Yukhei right in the eye and grins triumphantly. “Believe it, bitchass. You’re not winning this time,” he retorts.

“Isn’t it against your heavenly laws to swear, you little shit?” Renjun shoots back, visibly irritated. Heaven always had the upper hand in calling a trial, a luxury that Yukhei couldn’t grant his demons no matter how much he grovelled to Chenle. (But he’d be swayed by a flimsy piece of parchment sealed with a kiss by the high grand archangel Jungwoo? Bullshit.)

“Not when we’re out of heaven,” Jeno reminds him, flying back down towards them. “Bitch,” he adds, after a moment of contemplation.

Donghyuck snorts at that, and Yukhei throws him a hurt look.

“What?” Donghyuck asks, shrugging his shoulders as Yukhei retracts his arm out of utter heartbreak towards _his_ potential demon’s laughter towards the insolence of an angel, of all creatures. Renjun and Jisung would never betray him like this. If they _were_ to betray him, they would move all of the furniture in his office right next to the inferno or blow out his fingertip flames from afar while he was trying to light a cigarette (both of which they _had_ done before). But taking the side of an angel? Unforgivable.

“Do we have to do this? Can’t we just give him up to heaven?” Yukhei asks in a soft whisper, leaning into Renjun’s ear. As helpful as the addition of another demon would be, he currently didn’t have the patience to deal with this.

Renjun shakes his head. “No, we can’t. Donghyuck would be a _really_ good demon. Doyoung said so himself,” he says, as though Doyoung was the one running hell (if Yukhei was being honest, he practically was, but he didn’t want to admit that). “He’s been keeping tabs on him since he was born.”

“Well, yeah. That’s his _job_ ,” Yukhei argues, for no good reason other than to pick a fight. It was, in fact, Doyoung’s job, the official one he held amongst all the petty work he did for his own sake. And hell being hell, it was _very_ petty work.

“Do I get a say in this?” Donghyuck asks, arms folded across his chest. A shadow of a smirk rested on his lips, and Yukhei can instantly recognize the qualities of a demon Doyoung had seen in him. One drawback to working for hell was the fact that almost all (read: all) the people he worked with were assholes. Assholes who reported to him at least, but still.

“You do get a say. You can take their initial offer of going to hell…” Mark trails off. “Or you can induct yourself into being in the trial, see both realms, _then_ make your decision.”

Donghyuck is making an expression of being deep in thought, but Yukhei doesn’t hold his breath. The answer is obvious.

“Well, I am already dead,” Donghyuck hums. “I might as well see all that’s available to me.”

“Oh Donghyuck,” Jeno says, placing a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “I assure you, you’ll never feel more alive.”

Yukhei feels like throwing up. There’s a throbbing pain behind his eyelids that he can either trace back to the insistent harmonic flap of the angels’ wings or the fact that this will be a ginormous waste of his endless time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reaching the end! i have the entire plot mapped out but there won't be too strict of a writing schedule considering my finals are coming up...currently i have seven chapters in mind but that might change in the future. (p.s jungwoo doesn't show up until chapter 3 i'm so sorry) 
> 
> i'm also looking for a beta reader because sis...sometimes my eye balls threaten to roll out of my head because of how sick i am of reading my own writing. if you're interested contact me through twitter or leave me a comment with a means of reaching out. i'd really appreciate it!
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  [twitter](http://twitter.com/ten7s)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

_A trial of realms is initiated by the highest ranking official of heaven in the case of a recently departed soul suited for both heaven and hell being initially claimed by the latter. The soul bearer, from hereon referred to as the inductee, is then appealed to by representatives of both realms. After the trial period is over, the final decision is made by the inductee to become part of either realm’s bureaucracy or return to purgatory for their original judgement. Any questions posed by the inductee must be answered with full honesty. One party’s failure to be entirely frank will default the inductee’s appointment to the other side._

“How’d you die?” Donghyuck asks immediately after Jeno recites his trial of the realms speech. It’s been a while since Yukhei’s had to hear it in its entirety, but he continues to find it superfluous. For what reason would flowery language benefit explaining such a simple process? As far as he was concerned, it was as simple as offering the new kid your shiniest toy so they would become your friend.

“We don’t remember,” Mark answers, his words overlapping with Yukhei’s “None of your business.” Renjun shoots Yukhei a look, pleading with his boss to be friendlier to their potential protégé. The expression is a reminder to Yukhei that this is ultimately for the betterment of hell. It wasn’t responsible of him to be resentful towards the situation when he couldn’t do a thing to help it. The limits of immortality were shorter than one would expect.

This entire process was going to drive him mad with its rules. He had sent for someone to inform Doyoung of his longer than expected absence, and he’s sure hell would be fine under the demon’s command, but if it got too productive down there Yukhei would have to put his foot down. Hell was hell for a reason. A smoothly-running machine was certainly what Doyoung wanted to create, but not at all what Yukhei envisioned himself.

Yukhei’s hell had purpose indeed, but it was also his haven of chaos. There’s structure, but it was always meant to be toyed with. He likes an ever-changing realm to keep things interesting. Flames and fury weren’t enough to keep the afterlife satisfying in its concept of forever. That was what he prioritizes most: keeping himself, his demons, and everyone who lives in his underworld as continuously engaged as they could be.

Occasional bouts of boredom were one thing, but having nothing interesting to do in the world? He’d rather throw himself into the deepest pit of the inferno, the part that was the sensation of an eternal fall without knowing when—or if—you would hit the ground. Supposedly the spirit would just wither as it went on, that endless stretch of void that eradicated whatever was left of who you once were.

Those were the usual shallow-minded thoughts of Yukhei’s to be pondered. Nothing to be worried about there. Nope. There were other things to be concerned about, like coercing Donghyuck into giving up his soul to the devil or holding himself back from fighting an angel. He wasn’t sure _what_ heavenly powers were bestowed upon those brats beyond smiling brightly enough to make Yukhei squint, but he’s sure he could take one of them.

While in the haze of his thoughts he feels himself stumble over something, head whipping around to see Donghyuck having stuck one of his feet out, a sheepish smile on his face upon being caught. “I wanted to see if you’d catch yourself before you tripped,” he admits, nervous laughter resounding through the tunnel that led beyond any human interim. “The devil can zone out too, huh?”

Mark snorts, and Yukhei just then decides which angel to fight.

“We’re not _so_ different from humans,” Jeno goes on to say, as though he _doesn’t_ have a pair of wings sprouting from between his shoulder blades (that Yukhei’s already run his face into twice because the angel walks slowly and Yukhei keeps zoning out). When he had found himself with a mouth full of feathers, quick to sputter and spit out any strays, Jeno had looked back at him with a bemused expression that made Yukhei wonder if it had been done on purpose.

“Yeah, if you subtract the immortality, the hyperactive senses, and the ability to look over every living creature, I _guess_ we’re not so different,” Yukhei snarks, and Renjun elbows him in the side to tell him to cut it out.

Donghyuck doesn’t seem at all phased by the devil’s snappiness, however, amused by it more than anything else. “Is this the only way to heaven?” he asks, head turns left and right with wonderment. The surrounding path between purgatory and the next realms were billowy with cloud-like textures. It was always easy to tell if you were going in the direction you intended to, since one way turned brighter while the other turned darker. The dimmer switch of the hereafter, Doyoung had once put it.

“Yeah. This is the only thing that connects purgatory to heaven and hell. We can see each other because we’ve retained bodies, but there are spirits passing with us right now,” Mark explains, waving his arm to their visually barren surroundings. “You can only pass through one way if you have permission to. No one’s ever bypassed Chenle’s decisions, though. Not even once.”

“Don’t try unless you want to get exterminated,” Renjun adds, thumbnail between his teeth at the mere thought. “He’s one of the only beings who could literally strike you down where you stand.”“Who are the others?” Donghyuck asks.

“Jungwoo,” Mark replies proudly. “Our archangel. Heaven’s highest ranking.”Yukhei wants to gag. The way the angels would over fawn over heaven’s precious little leader was nauseating. Jungwoo only ever meddled in Yukhei’s affairs, and it was all accomplished from the comfort of what Yukhei could only assume was the cushiest spot in all of heaven. Too high and mighty to ever touch shoulders with anyone that wasn’t an annoyingly high-ranking paragon of big winged virtue. What a laugh.

At least Yukhei could get things done himself, as much as he detested getting things done himself.

“Yukhei too!” Renjun pipes up, slapping Yukhei on the back so quickly that it startles him. “Yukhei is a good leader, but he can also make even the most damned demons quiver in fear. So don’t duck with him.”

“ _Duck_?” Yukhei repeats, casting a confused look onto one of his most foul-mouthed friends.

Renjun is just as perplexed, smacking his lips together with drawn together eyebrows until Jeno pipes up. “We’re almost there,” he remarks, and suddenly the self-censoring makes sense. How boring, Yukhei thinks. The only thing that’d be more satisfying to do in heaven than hell is cuss.

“Taeyong will be meeting us to give Donghyuck a tour,” Mark explains, pride apparent in his beaming tone as light began to flood the vicinity. “He’s a leader of sorts, when Jungwoo isn’t around. But mostly his job is to be an angel of virtue.”

“Sounds lame,” Renjun immediately retorts. His hand was brought up to his forehead to act as an impromptu visor to shield his eyes from the light he was unaccustomed to. Yukhei was doing the same as they took heavy, resentful steps into heaven’s obnoxiously luminous pathways.

“Not here often, I’m guessing?” Donghyuck barks out a laugh. He’s the most obnoxious inductee Yukhei has ever laid his ancient eyes upon. It’s to the point where the devil can’t believe that he’d ever be considered for heaven.

Renjun actually snorts in response, nodding his head. “I only come around when I have to. I usually stay the duck away,” he explains, conjuring up two ridiculous pairs of sunglasses so he and Yukhei can truly be the biggest douches in heaven.

 

The so-called celestial realm never changed. It was always gleaming, pristine in its glossy white sidewalks and absurd architectural choice of every building being adorned with stained glass. It acted as the only colour that broke up all the scenery. Angels, at least, had more leeway with their appearances as was explained to them by Taeyong.

Yukhei trails behind with little interest as the angel of virtue leads them through the little that heaven’s tangible world occupied, all centralized for the sake of the angels who ran it. Although hell would be the only place to ever suit him, Renjun seems more invested in the exploration than he should be. Perhaps it’s because these visits were so infrequent. It’s not that demons weren’t allowed in heaven and vice versa, but it was certainly a strange sight.

The rules of mobility between the two realms went largely unspoken. There were few limits, so long as the responsibilities of the respective immortals were tended to, but crossing over was rare. It’s not like they all hung out together. They could be cordial if they so chose, but these excursions really only happened whenever an inductee underwent a trial.

“There’s the residence, which is where all the souls at rest go, and there’s the administration, which is where we are,” Taeyong says with the enthusiasm of a university tour guide. Donghyuck makes the comparison as they’re all taken through the fluffy paths of clouds that constituted the heavenly afterlife.

“University…I wonder what that’s like,” Mark muses, and Yukhei almost feels a pang of pity for him. He didn’t have any personal curiosity about his past human life—if he even had one—but he knew the same inquisitiveness wasn’t lost on some other immortals, demons _or_ angels. But those were lives that had happened too long ago to be remembered. All Yukhei knew was that Mark had indubitably been destined to become an angel, as much as Renjun had been fated to become a demon.

“You could ask Jungwoo. He might remember,” Yukhei says, and both Mark and Jeno look at him curiously, any helpfulness at all from the devil stunning them into silence. “I’m just saying…I have to keep tabs on up and coming demons through their entire lives. It’s not unlikely that Jungwoo does the same.”

“Jungwoo doesn’t like talking about previous lifetimes,” Taeyong says, coughing into his fist to redirect their attention.

Donghyuck interjects, “Why is your hair so red?”

“Because I like it this way?” Taeyong replies, mussing with his bangs self-consciously.

“Your head looks like a stop sign,” Renjun adds. Mark and Jeno stifle laughter, and the higher-ranking angel shoots them a glare that Yukhei is surprised to have been allowed in heaven.

“It _is_ a stop sign. It tells all the souls to stop fooling around if they spot him coming,” another angel quips, having just flown to land next to them. “For someone in the afterlife, Taeyong has way too many reservations.”

“I do not!” Taeyong pouts. “The residents are free to do whatever they want, so long as they’re not making a mess of the realm. I’ve never once prevented anyone from doing anything.”

“Yeah, because you write an appeal for them to go to hell instead,” he shoots back, and Yukhei, for the first time in a long while, laughs in heaven. Mark and Jeno look happy to see the other angel, immediately running to him to report their current situation.

“Good ol’ Johnny,” Yukhei says, greeting him with a closed fist that’s returned at equal force. He was the only angel Yukhei had ever wholeheartedly got along with, just so naturally easygoing and good-hearted that Yukhei couldn’t help but be his friend. The rest, as far as he was concerned, were free to duck off.

“As I was _saying_ ,” Taeyong continues, waving his hands above his head to catch everyone’s attention once more. “The residence is where you _could_ go, if you decide to reject being part of either realm’s bureaucracy and resign yourself to the fate Chenle has for you.”

“What’s the residence like?” Donghyuck asks.

“It’s different for everyone. Heaven is where you get to relish in simple pleasures and be entirely satisfied with them. You can go off, get acquainted with other souls, and spend your afterlife in a complete state of bliss,” Taeyong explains. The faint sparkles radiating from his fingertips don’t go unnoticed by Yukhei, who thinks they’re cheap looking. Wisps of fire were much cooler.

“Is the most unpleasant place in heaven worse than the best place in hell?” Donghyuck then asks, which makes Taeyong sputter in disbelief.

“There is _nothing_ unpleasant about heaven. Our tenants are nothing but supremely satisfied with the high standards we uphold—“

“Just admit that it takes people a little while to adjust,” Johnny calls out. “But one really isn’t better than the other. Hell’s not as bad as human mythology makes it out to be.”

“Don’t you have a child to help cross the street or something?” Taeyong snaps, before quickly returning to his normal state of composure. “I mean, don’t you have other matters to attend to?”

“I do. Plenty of them since you’re taking so long playing tour guide for the inductee,” Johnny says. “I’m getting swamped, just send him to Taeil already, will you?”

“They want Donghyuck to be an angel of the arts?” Jeno asks disbelievingly, turning to look at the inductee.

“Yes, Jungwoo thinks Taeil could use another hand. There’s a lot of muse missing from earth lately,” Taeyong sighs. “Take Donghyuck there, please. I guess I need to get back to Virtue.”

“Will do, Taeyong,” Mark says, his affirmation chirpy and enthusiastic in all the ways that gave Yukhei an even greater headache than the light. All this blatant sincerity was getting to him. Taeyong gives them all a nod before taking off with Johnny, his brightly coloured hair the focal point of the view until they grew too far to spot.

 

An angel of the arts, Donghyuck learns, propels the ambition of creative humans on earth. “We breathe inspiration into their ideas so they can go on to make life on earth more beautiful,” Taeil explains, sitting on a stool and literally plucking the strings of a harp in a cliché move that even Mark admits is corny on their way to the Arts domain.

It’s an intriguing concept though, one that actually seems to draw Donghyuck’s attention into the prospect of doing such a thing himself. From what Yukhei remembers, Donghyuck was attracted to creative energy on earth, had a passion for music especially. It was the one thing he could fully concentrate on and he could give his undivided attention to.

“Can I play your harp?” Donghyuck asks, and Taeil looks surprised but merely steps off his stool to let Donghyuck replace him. Soon there’s a simple tune coming from his gently strumming fingertips, and Donghyuck himself looks shocked by it.

“You’re good at that. Did you have this sort of ability on earth?” Taeil asks.

“Playing the harp? I remember playing some instruments, but I’m not sure if this was one of them,” Donghyuck explains. Sounds of discord don’t exist in heaven, it appears, the notes rearranging themselves into complimentary chords even when Donghyuck seems unsure of what he’s doing.

“You could learn to play every instrument here,” Taeil says, looking to Donghyuck with a smile. The expression is as cherubic as can be, and it’s threatening to Yukhei. An angel convincing Donghyuck through actual kindness wasn’t expected. He figured the tour in heaven would be all bells and whistles, ones that Yukhei could outdo once they visited hell.

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark is quick to supply an answer.

“In addition to your job, you still get to enjoy what heaven is, as it is,” Mark explains.

Jeno continues, “Heaven is entirely about enjoying the simple pleasures. If you have a goal, you’re free to work towards it. It’s about continuously bettering yourself.”

“What, do you have that memorized?” Renjun interjects sarcastically.

The angels reply affirmatively in unison, and it makes Renjun roll his eyes.

“How do you…Do what you do?” Donghyuck then asks Taeil, and the genuine curiosity on his face is an emotion Yukhei had yet to see him wear. Of course Jungwoo would try to entice this positively devious soul via his unadulterated passion for the arts. That didn’t change the fact that Donghyuck was meant to be _Yukhei’s_ demon. There was no doubt about it.

“Our overseer Kun keeps an eye out for people who need inspiration. He’ll relay the message to me and I’ll get to work. I simply enter their mind like so—“ Taeil waves his hand to project an image in thin air, displaying the view of a blank canvas and surrounding dirtied paint pots. It takes Donghyuck a moment to realize that this must be the perspective of another human, one that Taeil is partially occupying by the way his eyes have closed in complete focus. Another instant later his eyes open and the image shows movement, a brush-holding hand reaching to paint its first stroke.

“So you control them?” Donghyuck is still watching the projection, every calculated action beginning to culminate into art. “You do this for everyone?”

“No, it’s more so…I get to visit the part of their mind that stores ideas. I rearrange them somewhat for cohesion and push them onward,” Taeil explains, a wave of his hand in the opposite direction making the image dissipate. “And not me alone. There are many other angels who do this. And you could be one of them.”

Making art was one of Donghyuck’s greatest passions. The opportunity to spend his afterlife assisting people with theirs while also creating his own sounded ideal to him.

Yukhei knew this, and it annoyed him.

 

“If heaven’s about simple pleasures, what’s hell?” Donghyuck asks as they traverse the tunnel again, now in the opposite direction than before. Had he the capacity to feel fatigue, he would have started to complain about how much they had walked by now, but he still felt rested. Eternally rested, perhaps.

“Excellent question, Donghyuck,” Renjun says, his position at the front of the procession having switched from earlier, Mark and Jeno now trailing along behind them. Yukhei wouldn’t be the first to admit out loud how petty he is, but he does unexpectedly stop in place once or twice so the angels run into his (much stiffer, much pointier) wings.

“Hell,” the demon begins, “is about indulging the very depths of your self-gratifications. Humans aren’t wrong in expecting it to be the opposite of heaven, but it isn’t about how bad it is. It’s about _how_ you choose to spend your afterlife.”

“An entirely depraved lifestyle, I’m sure,” Mark says under his breath, but Donghyuck ignores him, while Yukhei suddenly stops walking again until he hears the angel make a choked noise of surprise.

“When was the last time you stopped by our cozy little place?” Yukhei asks heaven’s residents with some amusement. His rare visits to heaven were more of a nuisance than anything, but he _knew_ that angels felt thoroughly unsettled by hell. While he found heaven’s kumbaya shtick merely unimpressive, hell’s was terrifying to the other side.

“Prob-Probably when Yuta was an inductee,” Jeno stutters, putting on a brave face despite his curling knuckles saying otherwise. The last trial, Yukhei recounts fondly, had ended quite quickly. They had visited hell first, and Yuta almost immediately found reason to stay for good. Yuta seemed angelic from the get-go, after all, so Yukhei was downright ecstatic to find out otherwise. There was one particular demon of his to thank for convincing Yuta to stay, but Yukhei likes to think that hell was always the more appealing place.

Although he hadn’t seen it himself, Yukhei heard from Johnny that Jungwoo had been on edge about that for a few decades. The thought made Yukhei giddy. Messing with the archangel, as elusive and faceless as he was, was always a delight.

“So…You could do anything you want here? With no consequences whatsoever?” Donghyuck asks. His interest is certainly piqued, but he didn’t want to seem too eager so as to not offend Mark and Jeno. Heaven seemed like a good deal too; he didn’t want to give either up yet.

“It’s chaos. We orchestrate it on earth and keep it organized here.” Yukhei beams as he explains, taking a few steps further ahead of Renjun to be the first one to cross over. Rather than a tangible gate, entering into hell or heaven was more so a subtle change of surroundings, a choppy fade in of a new environment.

(When Doyoung first arrived in hell, Yukhei remembers, he had asked the devil if there was any way to correct that. “I don’t remember what I did on earth, but I didn’t die just to have to experience these Powerpoint slide transitions crossing into the afterlife,” Doyoung had complained. Yukhei had never met a more dainty demon. He loved him.)

Mark and Jeno visibly bristle when they’ve fully crossed from the tunnel into hell. Yukhei breathes the air, smelling distinctly of cedar and campfire smoke. It was fitting, he always thought: an olfactory landscape that was expected, but pleasant.

As anticipated, Doyoung is the first to greet them. He’s the most diligent being to have ever entered hell, and that was entirely through his own means. Originally he had been an inductee too, had undergone the trial, and had decided to go to heaven before realizing it wasn’t for him.

Switching realms was an unprecedented event, and neither Jungwoo nor Yukhei had known what to do about it. It may have been the last time the respective leaders spoke, although their correspondence was conducted entirely via Johnny flying back and forth with sticky notes that were passive-aggressive on Yukhei’s part.

In the end, Doyoung had decided what was good for himself, by himself. Without much more thought he walked out of heaven one day and entered hell, marching straight into Yukhei’s office and refusing to leave until he was employed. The space that he had left vacant in heaven was easily filled by the next inductee, one Na Jaemin who so clearly belonged to the upper realm that the other prospect was almost laughable.

“And just _where_ was Jisung in all of this?” Doyoung asks pointedly, the scolding tone of his voice reminiscent of a parent whose child broke curfew. “You’ve gotten Yukhei roped into this trial nonsense.”

“Jisung was actually busy today, I promise!” Renjun protests. “There was a lot of iniquity to be stirred up.”

Doyoung looks to Yukhei for confirmation and the latter, despite being the boss of this all, quickly nods in agreement, not wanting to be yelled too.

“It’s okay, I’m handling it. I’m taking Donghyuck to Ten and then we’ll be out and he’ll make his decision,” Yukhei assures Doyoung, whose attention has been brought back to his planner of infinity pages. Of all things to indulge in, of _course_ Doyoung would create an endless means of organization. In it he held the name of every person whose trajectory of life was heading towards hell. There was no way to tell for sure—Chenle was the only one who made those decisions—but Doyoung was rarely wrong.

“Good. Ten could use more help,” Doyoung says as he chews on the back of his pen (which obviously would never run out of ink). “Make sure to get this one. He’d be good here.”

This one, he says, in reference to Donghyuck, who is confused but also flattered by that statement. As Doyoung walks away he hisses at Mark and Jeno, making them jump in bewilderment. For the first time since he’s started speaking, Doyoung smiles, although it’s more of a smirk than anything, and continues on.

As intimidating and stiff as Doyoung could get, Yukhei was ultimately grateful for just how _good_ of a demon he was. Fallen angel, indeed, he thinks as Renjun bursts into mean-spirited laughter alongside Donghyuck.

“He was so _nice_ when he was in heaven,” Jeno says, flabbergasted.

“He _is_ nice. You make it sound like everyone here is awful,” Renjun complains.

“We _are_ in hell. It’s not like anyone _that_ bad ends up in heaven,” Mark says.

“You should be fucking grateful I house all those evil spirits. Your precious little heaven probably couldn’t handle anything even close to _mū_ ,” Yukhei snaps, his voice rising at the insolent remarks of the angels. Not once did he get any credit for taking everything heaven felt too privileged to handle. Not once did they consider that what they considered “the good place” only became such because of their standards. “Just watch your back, you feather-duster-winged brats. It’s not that far of a walk to inferno.”

Mark and Jeno look petrified. Yukhei almost feels bad for going off on them like that, but they should _know_ better than to insult hell in front of the devil. They should know their place too—even if they weren’t of the same realm, Yukhei outranked them by eons.

“Sorry,” they both mumble.

“Whatever,” Yukhei says with a resigned sigh. “It’s not like forgiveness matters here.”

 

Whether hell is better decorated than heaven Donghyuck doesn’t choose to comment, the stark contrast between the two making it difficult to compare. In his head he always imagined hell to be some flaming netherworld of blood and agony. It actually seems a bit more like a theme park, one with strong commitment to its warm toned colour palette and soundtrack of crackling flames.

The domain of Raising is a large open stage, one Ten had created for his own amusement and convenience. There were several other demons in what seemed to be an orchestra pit, and Ten faced them from a higher platform, exuding an authority wielded over his work.

Ten taps his conducting baton on the edge of a music stand, occupied by no sheets of music but rather a long to-do list. Raising a closed fist to his mouth, he clears his throat before waving his other hand in one swift motion. His eyes are closed, brows knit together in concentration towards something unseen to the rest of them.

“What’s he doing?” Donghyuck asks, observing the scene curiously. They had yet to approach Ten himself, waiting for a lull in his actions to interrupt.

“He’s a raiser,” Renjun then answers. “He heightens, let’s say, certain impulsive tendencies in humans. For the sake of making the world a more productive, interesting place.”

“What the humans don’t know is how often their good actions are spurred by bad situations,” Yukhei adds on. “They have hell to thank for that.” Every action of Ten’s, as subtle or grandiose as it was, changed something on earth for better or for worse. Any decision to try something new was all by Ten’s hand or that of his subordinates.

“Yo, Ten!” Renjun calls out when the other demon seems less occupied. Ten’s hand snaps in his direction upon being called, and the smile thrown their way as he comes towards them makes Donghyuck less inclined to believe he could be such a source of disaster.

“You’re bringing me a new little demon?” Ten asks, grabbing Donghyuck’s chin between his fingers and turning his head from side to side for examination. “He’s adorable—oh.” His face falls upon realizing that Mark and Jeno are also here, indicating that the new addition to his orchestra wasn’t guaranteed after all. “A trial? Again? I swear the last one was just a couple of decades ago.”

“We always claim them first,” Yukhei says defensively. “It’s not our fault Jungwoo has to pick a fight every time. It’s so much harder to find a suitable demon than an angel, and heaven _still_ tries to snatch every soul possible.”

“Heaven’s work is important,” Mark says.

“So is mine, you hymn-singing imp,” Ten snaps back.

“All of you immortals are awfully touchy,” Donghyuck comments and, to his surprise, Ten laughs.

“We’ve nothing but time to think about how to insult each other, rookie,” Ten says. “What’s your name?”

“Donghyuck.”

“Ten.” He offers a hand to the inductee, whose eyes widen after shaking it.

“Your hands are cold,” Donghyuck remarks. “Why are they so cold?”

“Hell gets too toasty for my taste, so I keep my place more air-conditioned than the rest.”

“You…You get A/C?” Jeno asks with surprise.

“What, heaven’s always perfectly comfortably temperature not good enough for you?” Renjun quips.

“No!” Mark immediately refutes. “It just…It’s always the same.”

“So even you heavenly urchins get tired of Jungwoo’s eternal satisfaction bullshit,” Yukhei snickers.

Mark and Jeno look to each other with some guilt, surely torn as to whether this was something worth confessing to a higher up later. That was the rub, wasn’t it? Hell had its own faults—bottomless pleasure was fun until it wasn’t, and so was consistent contentment. It was the reason why Yukhei so often refused to indulge himself in his own realm’s decadence, in fear that he would one day grow bored of it too. The only one he allowed himself was long stretches of rest, for he had nothing but time to spend.

“What other kinds of jobs are around in hell?” Donghyuck asks Renjun, who’s eager to reply.

“There’s different domains like heaven, all managed by someone different. Jisung, who sometimes collects souls with me, but is also an igniter of emotion. Then there’s Jaehyun who incites those so-called deadly sins. Sicheng and Yuta manipulate perspective together, and Doyoung runs us all.” When Renjun’s finished explaining, Yukhei very unsubtly coughs into his fist. “I mean Yukhei. Yukhei runs it all. Doyoung keeps track of hell’s involvement on earth.”

“And why does hell want me to be a raiser like Ten?”

Ten nods, wanting to answer this himself. “You’re smart, Donghyuck,” he starts. “Really clever. You won’t just follow orders mindlessly. I need someone who actually knows how to stir up some chaos of their own. It would really be nice to have you on board.”

“Plus, you get to enjoy hell as it is too,” Renjun says in addition. “Eat anything you want until you’re bursting, laze around and do nothing for centuries, wreak havoc in your own personal version of paradise.”

“Must be nice,” Jeno sighs, and the five other beings turn to stare. The angel doesn’t even look ashamed of saying it. “What? I don’t come here often, just let me daydream for a bit.”

“Heathen,” Mark says, nudging him in the side. “What are you, a demon?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Renjun snarls.

Jeno steps in to mediate when the bickering occurs, leaving Ten to sling an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulders and ruffle his hair. “Just think about it. We’re a lot more freewheeling here than they are up there,” he says. “It’d be fun.”

Donghyuck presses his lips together in thought. “Is there anything more to see?” he asks.

Yukhei sighs, nodding his head with some annoyance. “The hypothetical realm, if you _must_ see it to make your decision. But if we are going, we’re going later, I need a nap,” he says with a yawn.

“I thought you couldn’t get tired?” Donghyuck questions.

“Yeah, well, I thought so too,” Yukhei answers curtly before turning around to stomp off to his office for some well deserved sleep. This trial was nonsense, he thinks resentfully. What a nuisance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so maybe ten's domain is based on his hit the stage performance...fight me
> 
> i promise jungwoo will show up next chapter uwu
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ten7s)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coughs hi i'm sorry this update is quite late...finals killed me a lil but i hope jungwoo's appearance will make up for it somewhat

The hypothetical realm never fails to creep Yukhei out. It never fails to creep anyone out, for that matter. Considering its defining quality was its lack of any other qualities, it was the most unsettling place across both heaven and hell. The first time Yukhei had accompanied Doyoung here, for one explanation of an administrative duty or another, Doyoung took one look around before promptly deciding he would do everything possible to never have to return.

Turns out one of the most feared beings of the afterlife had his own fears. Namely, a place with no beginning or end, nothing but white walls that couldn’t even be considered as such because they never ended. There was nothing to encase. It contained every possibility, after all. Nothing could hold that together.

“HEWWO?!” Donghyuck screams as soon as they arrive, the sound reverberating through the vicinity for several moments, much to his immense satisfaction. The exclamation, as well as the subsequent echo, startles the immortals, all of whom are unsettled enough by being in the hypothetical realm in the first place.

Yukhei doesn’t hesitate this time to give Donghyuck the noogie he’s deserved since landing in purgatory. He’s been meaning to do it since they met. It had been bad enough trying to get Jisung to stop throwing boomerangs around the hypothetical realm. He couldn’t deal with another impulsive demon’s outbursts disturbing scenarios in the future. The thought makes Yukhei grateful that Jisung had been too busy to help with Donghyuck’s trial—it’d give Yukhei enough time to figure out how to keep them apart forever. Them interacting might be too much chaos, even for hell.

“Nothing disappears here,” Mark explains, quite quietly. “If something’s put into place, it has to be put away on purpose, but it’s a really long and difficult process to be aware of every little thing to get rid of.”

“So until we specifically track it down, that noise you just made will show up somewhere again,” Jeno adds on.

“You guys look like floating heads,” Renjun states with amusement, the angels’ white uniforms blending entirely with the background of the realm.

“Once Johnny came here with Taeyong while he had silver hair and lost him,” Jeno says. “He wandered off during a scenario and Johnny put almost everything away before he realized Taeyong might have been included in that.” The anecdote makes Yukhei almost crack a smile. Almost.

“How’d he find him?” Donghyuck asks.

“I had to come down and look for him myself. I had to rebuild and dismantle the entire thing about four times before I found Taeyong caught in a split moment.”

The additional voice, vaguely familiar to Yukhei’s ears, catches him off guard. He immediately bristles, head whipping around to locate a new physical presence but is unable to find anyone. Then he realizes who it is.

“Sir? Are you here or just watching?” Mark calls out cordially, equally confused as he and Jeno straighten their postures, being the upstanding, esteemed members of heaven whose important roles they occupy.

“Is that…” Renjun begins to whisper to Yukhei, seeming hesitant to finish his thought. The devil, however, does not give a fuck.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop, at least do it discreetly!” Yukhei shouts, head tilted upwards. “Ever step out of your little kingdom, you elitist prick?!” Yukhei’s blunt remarks make the angels flinch, clearly unaccustomed to any acts of disrespect taken against heaven’s highest ranking.

The archangel was _always_ watching, Yukhei knew because he had the same capability, not that he ever went as far as to enter a conversation as a disembodied voice like a cliché. He often scrolled through the various parts of his domain or where his demons were working, just to make sure they weren’t slacking too much. And if they were, it’s not like he cared _that_ much. They had eternity to get work done.

“I was just passing through and heard a question I could answer for the inductee. I was simply following the rules about complete honesty for the trial, Yukhei,” Jungwoo says, still nowhere to be seen. Yukhei feels his eye twitch when the archangel uses his name. It was unnerving to hear it said in Jungwoo’s fittingly dulcet voice. “What are you doing on this errand? Has Doyoung finally overthrown you?”

“Oho.” Donghyuck raises an intrigued eyebrow. “So there _are_ angels with senses of humour after all. I was starting to worry it’d be a snark-free society.”

“Just wait until you meet Jaemin,” Jungwoo says with a laugh. A stupid, angelic laugh fit for a stupid, angelic being, Yukhei thinks.

“Can I meet you first?” Donghyuck asks, a question that visibly affronts Mark.

“You can’t just ask that—“ he says in a hushed tone, hand squeezing Donghyuck’s shoulder in an act of warning. “That’s our _archangel_.”

“And?” Donghyuck answers curtly. “The devil just gave me a noogie. You’re telling me I can’t even meet the archangel before signing my afterlife away to heaven?”

“You are?” Renjun asks, wide-eyed.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I’ll come by. It’s been a while since I’ve left heaven,” Jungwoo says, and the thought of him even getting close to Yukhei makes his nose crinkle in distaste.

“Stay where you are,” Yukhei snarls. “Wouldn’t want to scuff your wings.” There’s something strange about it, a feeling beyond just annoyance regarding the idea of seeing Jungwoo face-to-face. His rare appearances out of heaven made it hard to catch a glimpse of him. He was elusive, not that Yukhei ever cared to really check. He probably looked like a dweeb.

“Hello,” someone whispers right into his ear. Yukhei jumps, frightened. A high-pitched noise escapes him too, a noise that had definitely been living in his stomach and just then decided to fly out into the light.

Jungwoo laughs, the only aspect of him at the moment recognizable to Yukhei, and he’s downright pissed off that he got so easily startled. Mark and Jeno are trying to hold back their laughter, amusement bit back in favour of remaining stoic in front of their boss.

“Stand down, you two,” Jungwoo says, approaching them with a kind smile. “It’s just me.”

Yukhei observes him suspiciously, his eyes darting up and down his entire form. There were limited things you could do to your appearance in the afterlife—it was based off an original, earthly foundation—so Yukhei is a little mad to admit Jungwoo isn’t as dweeb-y looking as he wanted him to be. Despite it all, he’s almost disappointed Jungwoo doesn’t look like some obviously authoritative individual. He’s tall, but shorter than Yukhei, Yukhei notes smugly. And he’s handsome, in a warm, soft sort of way as opposed to Yukhei’s sharp, angular features.

It takes Yukhei all of two seconds to determine that he doesn’t like being around Jungwoo in a physical sense either. The leader of heaven was free to choke.

_That’s not very nice of you to think._

Yukhei flinches, Jungwoo’s voice somehow loud but not audible. It feels even closer than when he had spoken right into Yukhei’s ears. The archangel is a good distance away, still speaking to Mark and Jeno at a moderate enough level that Yukhei can’t hear him from where he is. He definitely heard him talk to him though—so what the fuck?

_I’m surprised too. I’ve never been able to do this before._

Yukhei’s shoulders seize up in discomfort. His eyes flicker up toward Jungwoo, who returns the gaze for an instant. It was long enough for Yukhei to understand what was going on.

_Are you kidding me? Get out of my mind._

_I don’t know how._

An exasperated sigh leaves Yukhei’s lips, aggravated enough that even Donghyuck throws him a look of mild concern. Dull pain throbbed between his brows. It might be a migraine. He’s not sure. He hasn’t experienced one in a long while but he thinks this is what it would be.

“Can we just get this scenario started already?” Yukhei asks, voice strained as he presses the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I have a realm to run.”

“Are you okay, chief?” Renjun whispers, worry knit into his expression.

“Just peachy.” Yukhei gives him a crooked smile. “Do your thing.”

“What is the thing, exactly?” Donghyuck asks, bouncing restlessly on his feet. He’s been mostly silent regarding their purpose here, preferring to see things play out as they may, but he’s getting increasingly curious. The realm, although unsettling, was nothing more than purely blank. They had arrived here from a route that was confusing to track, the pervasive colour white seeping into the surroundings before he even realized it. There had been a direct tunnel from hell to the hypothetical, but he wasn’t quite sure if he would be able to locate an exit now. Nothing about this place seemed special. Its seemingly endless white walls reminded Donghyuck of some low budget television show whose name he could no longer remember.

“We’re going to show you an example each of how heaven and hell play a role in life on earth,” Jungwoo explains. “A practical one. You’ll recognize it.”

Renjun is taking deep breaths, channeling the strength necessary for the task of creating the scenario that he hopes will spur Donghyuck to joining hell’s side. When he opens one eye he sees Mark’s are both closed; the angel must be preparing all the same.

_Renjun’s improved._

Jungwoo’s voice pierces through Yukhei’s focus, not that it was particularly fixated on anything else but how uncomfortable it was that Jungwoo was able to do that in the first place.

_I told you to stop talking to me. Neither of us should even be here._

_How else am I supposed to speak to you?_

“With your mouth!” Yukhei shouts, the exclamation making everyone else look to him in surprise. “Speak to me out loud.”

“I didn’t want to distract Mark or Renjun,” Jungwoo says calmly. His composure only exacerbates Yukhei’s annoyance, as well as his migraine.

“I’m already ready, sir,” Mark says with a nod.

“Me too,” Renjun says quickly, not wanting to be outdone.

“Let’s let Renjun go first then,” Jungwoo says, turning to Yukhei for his approval. “Show of courtesy, since we won over the last inductee.”

Jaemin was a sore spot for hell’s occupants. Renjun had been _so_ sure that Jaemin would prefer hell, but something about Jeno’s stupidly perfect crinkled smile won him over, according to Jaemin when he rationalized his decision. The betrayal was an affront to everything hell stood for, Jisung had complained.

In Yukhei’s opinion, they shouldn’t have wasted their endless time in the first place—Jaemin seemed entirely fit to be an angel from the start. Maybe he was a bad judge of character. Everyone else disagreed, including Doyoung, who had pinned Jaemin to become a demon. It was the one time he had been wrong.

The gracious offer feels condescending to Yukhei, but he sighs and nudges Renjun to go on. “‘Won over’ is generously worded,” Yukhei says anyway as Renjun begins to build the components of a day that had already long passed. “By those standards, Yuta was ‘won over’ too.”

Jungwoo’s smile falters. It’s restored instantaneously but the fact that Yukhei manages to fluster him even a little makes him feel as though he’s won.

“I concur. Your wily demon of perspective absolutely enchanted Yuta, didn’t he?” Jungwoo asks, his tone kept cordial. Yukhei is still deep enough in the archangel’s thoughts that he can detect the sarcasm that runs adjacent to his intentions. According to the people of heaven, Yuta’s instatement into hell was a cheat—Sicheng _must_ have put some sort of infernal spell on Yuta to have swayed him that quickly.

Yukhei snorts at the fact. They had it all wrong. Sicheng didn’t do shit: Yuta had experienced love at first sight and proclaimed he would sign his afterlife to the lower realm. It was magic, Yuta would say, but not the kind that any angels would expect. Making a monumentally rash decision because he found someone hot made him a perfect demonic candidate.

Donghyuck jolts as he registers their new surroundings. They’re in a cathedral that prods at his memories, ones that had already begun to expunge themselves. Harmoniously stacked voices create a pleasing soundscape, and it takes the inductee another moment to realize they’re coming from singers lined up in three neat rows. They’re stood in front of the steps leading to the alter, eyes all trained on the folders in their hands, assumably containing the very music they’re singing.

“This is _good_ ,” Mark comments following an impressed, high-pitched whistle. His wings unfurl so he can fly to the tops of the building’s high ceiling, the angel wanting to get a better look at the stained glass windows Renjun had woven into existence.

Yukhei looks around in admiration too. It had been a while since he got to see Renjun’s work firsthand. He was happy to see the demon (and arguably his closest friend, not that Yukhei would ever admit it) had improved so much. Maybe all of those excursions with Jisung were of use after all. Yukhei never really cared so much as to check up on what they were actually doing. They were members of hell, they were free to do as they pleased.

“I didn’t realize this had been hell’s doing,” Jeno remarks, having recognized the setting of the scenario from their prior research into Donghyuck’s life on earth. He finds Renjun’s work commendable as well, although in a less specific way from Mark, who was far better versed at building scenarios.

“It was!” Renjun beams, proud of his own creation. The environment he’s built into the realm of the hypothetical depicts a particular moment that deeply affected Donghyuck.

“Th-That’s me,” Donghyuck says, pointing at the chubby-cheeked cherub standing in the second row of the choristers. This younger version of him is a Donghyuck who had barely started middle school, one whose mere interest in music was growing into a full blown passion. He can only recall this now as though it happened to someone other than him, albeit someone with whom he could entirely sympathize.

“Say hi to eleven-year-old Donghyuck,” Renjun coos, walking to where hypothetical-Donghyuck stands so he can pet his hair. The young boy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show any sign of having seen or felt Yukhei.

“Is this real?” Donghyuck asks, hesitant to wander any farther from his place near the front pews, it and all of its identical benches devoid of any church goers. Jungwoo is watching every move carefully, silent in a way that doesn’t detract from his intense examination of the scene.

“Not quite,” Renjun starts. “Nothing that happens in the hypothetical realm is implausible. You can build any scenario here, but it’ll play out logically according to what you put into it. It’s how demons and angels decide how to manipulate a certain situation to produce the best outcome. For you though, we’ll be showing you something that’s already happened.” The demon then gestures towards the choir with a wave of his hand.

They all look to be about hypothetical-Donghyuck’s age, and their eyes collectively dart towards his side of the group when he, along with two other male tenors, sing together as the others remain silent for the meantime. Hypothetical-Donghyuck, his voice having yet to deepen like his friends, in an unfortunate bout of puberty-caused embarrassment, sings a note that strains leaving his lips in a loud, ugly manner.

“That was Ten,” Renjun says to the immortals and inductee, who have again gathered near Donghyuck to examine the scenario. “He caused your voice to crack.”

Donghyuck’s expression is uncomfortable. Although he didn’t recall this memory particularly well, he remembered the shame. The utter mortification he felt towards his mistake, and how it must have looked to his conductor who he desperately wanted to impress. During that time he wanted nothing more than to show he was good enough, even if only within a school-sanctioned, monthly-mass employed choir.

At most, a few people near hypothetical-Donghyuck snort in amusement. It wasn’t intentional, of course, but it was merely a funny thing to hear, that of a young boy’s voice cracking and breaking the three part harmony in a noticeable way.

“This isn’t…” Donghyuck trails off, brow furrowed. Something felt off.

“It doesn’t seem right, does it?” Renjun asks, before waving his hand as though to wipe away one perspective and bring in another, one in which every young chorister is laughing meanly at hypothetical-Donghyuck, fingers pointed in accusatory fashions as the conductor looks to him with disappointment. “This more like it? That’s Sicheng’s work. He made you see things much worse than than they actually were.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Donghyuck asks, hand rubbing the back of his neck in nervous habit. It’s very human of him, Yukhei thinks. That tic, honest in a way words could rarely be—that kind of nail-biting, cheek-chewing sincerity.

When he glances up at the heavenly immortals, they’re watching on in fascination. They know Renjun wouldn’t upset Donghyuck without purpose, and they’re curious about how he’ll go on. Jungwoo feels Yukhei’s gaze and looks back with a questioning, but continuously amused, expression. Yukhei drops the stare.

“Because this happened the day after,” Renjun says, sliding his hand from one side to effectively erase any traces of the people in front of them. Donghyuck watches the process with wonderment apparent in his eyes before Renjun brings in the same people, wearing different clothing and talking amongst themselves. Practice had yet to begin, and Donghyuck was nowhere to be found.

“Oh—this was when…?” Mark trails off, nodding in understanding.

Just then one of the doors to the cathedral opens up behind them, and hypothetical-Donghyuck treads inside with a determined look on his face. There’s fire in his eyes, an intensity rarely seen in so young an individual. That was Jisung’s doing, that augmentation of emotion. The shame had morphed into a resolution to prove himself to his peers, an ambition driven by what was once anger and was now tenacity.

“You outperformed everyone during this practice, didn’t you?” Renjun asks as hypothetical-Donghyuck marches to his spot. The other kids cast strange looks towards his behaviour but Sicheng no longer has an insecurity-spurring influence over Donghyuck’s perspective. It wasn’t productive to manipulate it any longer. “And you were given a solo for the Easter mass. As well as a permanent spot on the weekly choir.”

“Yeah…” Donghyuck says, nodding in greater understanding of the situation. Although his human memories were still fuzzy on their way to being eradicated, he still knew far more than anyone else, the immortals having long forgotten what it’s like to be human firsthand.

Yukhei dwells on that sometimes, the purpose of the hereafter’s amnesia. There may not be one—he didn’t have control over _everything_ —but there was a practicality to it. Having memories usually meant attachments, and those weren’t permitted in heaven or hell, to recall earthly desires that couldn’t be fulfilled. Certainly those who were in the afterlife had curiosities about the lives they led on earth, but the core of their humanity, their personalities and natures, were all preserved. That was more than often enough to satisfy.

“So, that was hell’s doing,” Donghyuck muses, the corners of his lips quirking up in fascination. As young as he had been, that day set him on a course from which he never strayed for the rest of his life. He couldn’t articulate it in a detailed manner but he feels gratified knowing where it began.

Mark and Jeno glance at each other nervously. Donghyuck looks entirely inquisitive towards hell’s process and what they were capable of accomplishing. Detecting the disquietude of his angels, Jungwoo steps forward between them and puts a hand on each of their shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly.

“If this is complete, may Mark go on?” Jungwoo asks politely, flashing a smile that makes Renjun cower in its purity. He wasn’t used to being around such an energy. It was intimidating, but it was harmless. The paradox of its frightening quality was unnerving on its own.

“I can build outside. I don’t need as much space,” Mark says. His scenario wasn’t as elaborate, but he knew his strengths played into sentimental value more than Renjun’s realism. With a gentle elbowing into Jeno’s side, the two angels exit the make-believe cathedral as Renjun began to put things away one after the other. It was a process of one-by-one dismantlement, locating each individual piece of his creation and storing it away, including each hypothetical-person as they existed in different moments.

“Bye-bye, middle school me,” Donghyuck calls out, waving his hand. “You’re a fiery little bastard and I love you!” Yukhei laughs at that, and when Jungwoo looks at him again, he’s inclined to say something.

_Why do you keep staring at me?_

_Oh, now you want to speak to me this way?_

_I don’t feel like confronting you about it in front of our subordinates._

_Mark and Jeno are outside, and Renjun is your closest friend._

Yukhei hates that Jungwoo knows that, but he supposes if the archangel had been paying close attention this whole time, the thought had crossed his mind recently enough for him to have heard.

“Fine, why do you keep staring at me?” Yukhei asks, voice low in case the others hear, although Donghyuck is occupied watching Renjun zap away their surroundings with fascination.

“Because I’m finally putting a face to a name,” Jungwoo says. “I’ve never had a reason to come to hell, after all. I wasn’t even aware you had come to heaven earlier. You don’t leave hell very often.”

“Is that why you were snooping around the realms? You were curious to see me?” Yukhei asks incredulously.

“Yes. Wouldn’t you be?” Jungwoo answers easily. It makes Yukhei uneasy. “I’ve met the demons that pass through heaven on very rare occasion, it’s probably been centuries since I last spoke to one. The communication between our two realms hasn’t been ideal for a long time.”

“It’s been like this forever,” Yukhei says flatly. “And it’s like that because all of your angels are snobs who think they’re better than my demons.” Except Johnny, who he always excludes from that group. Johnny was cool.

“I suppose they could make a better effort. I certainly don’t condone that behaviour,” Jungwoo tuts, wondering whether what he had interpreted as playful jabs between some of the younger angels and demons were ill-intentioned.

“You don’t condone it, but you facilitate it,” Yukhei grumbles, all of his discontent finally having a satisfactory recipient to whom they could be addressed. “Your angels revere you but I haven’t ever witnessed you ever doing work yourself.”

Jungwoo looks taken aback at the assertion, but has his focus redirected when Jeno sticks his head through the doors and announces Mark’s done. Although Renjun has yet to finish his task, the front half of the cathedral still in need of deconstruction, Yukhei calls him over to watch too as they hurry to exit his scenario.

“What were you talking about?” Renjun asks under his breath when he catches up to Yukhei. “You look pissed off.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yukhei says, wondering whether he overstepped. There was an abundance of contempt he held for heaven and its occupants, but most of it was directed at its elitist culture. The look on Jungwoo’s face when Yukhei expressed such vexation was the most unnerving yet, and the first that was meant to be.

Mark’s scenario is more so several vignettes rather than a concrete display. There are several scenes he’s set up like a blown-out story book, one following the other to illustrate its chronology. “Your first year of high school,” Mark begins, the first vignette beginning to morph from its still image into a moving picture.

As an obnoxiously loud school bell rings a slightly older hypothetical-Donghyuck can be seen, sauntering through the hallways as he tries not to make it seem as though he’s as petrified as he actually is. His school uniform fits him somewhat strangely, large in the shoulders where his frame has yet to widen and tight in the sides where his torso had begun to rapidly stretch vertically. He yawns as he opens his locker to retrieve his math textbook, an earphone playing a song he needs to have memorized plugged into one ear as he hums along quietly.

“Hyuck!” someone chirps, walking over to where he is with her hands held behind her back. It’s merely a cute gesture, one that suited the spirited energy she resonated.

“Sunbae,” Hypothetical-Donghyuck greets in return, taking out his other earphone to properly address his senior.

“One of your first crushes, right?” Mark says, pausing the scene in its place to turn to Donghyuck with a smile. The inductee flushes and looks to his feet, not having expected this memory to be dug up again.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck merely replies, looking back towards the image of him standing across from Yerim, a faraway figure now. “Continue, please.”

“I told you to call me noona! I hate being called sunbae,” Yerim says with a pout, folding her arms across her chest. “Are you excited for rehearsal tonight?”

Hypothetical-Donghyuck nods excitedly, holding up his phone to show her what he had been listening to. “The soundtrack has been on repeat non-stop,” he says. “I’m almost completely memorized.”

Yerim smiles widely, and hypothetical-Donghyuck’s heart skips a beat that Mark points out with a pinkish glow on the left side of his chest. It’s all very melodramatic and Yukhei’s annoyed for feeling a little mushy himself. Renjun is watching with half-interest, half-resentment.

The scene stops, and Mark strolls to the next one, now set in a classroom reserved for music students to practice. Hypothetical-Donghyuck is sitting on a piano bench with his figure hunched over the covered keys, letting out a deep sigh. The windows open to let in the cool breeze of early spring, one that he hopes will inspire him. All of a sudden he seems possessed by a certain force. His heart is glowing again, the colour pink intensifying into a warmer shade.

“That’s Taeil,” Mark says softly, as though he would disturb the scenario if he was too loud. Before Donghyuck can ask what exactly this means, he watches his younger self straighten out, open the piano cover, and starts to play the beginnings of a melody. A flicker of recognition passes Donghyuck’s face as he hears it.

“You wrote a song for Yerim,” Mark explains. “To confess your feelings for her. It was the most comfortable manner for you.” And Taeil’s the one who whispered such a song into Donghyuck’s ear. Of course Mark would choose this moment of Donghyuck’s life. Humans were so sentimental about such trivial things, like first loves.

“Yeah, I did,” Donghyuck sighs, expression melting into fondness. It was the first song he had ever completed, the first he ever shared with someone.

Mark swiftly fast forwards the scenario, allowing the others to watch hypothetical-Donghyuck speeding in and out of the music room, letting his fingers fly over the keys, his lips mouthing the lyrics that were nothing but fittingly adolescent. Amidst all of the frantic, sped-up moments, the glow of his chest remained consistent, its colour growing warmer by the day.

“Want to see the day you played it for her?” Mark asks, and Donghyuck eagerly nods. It was a smart move, to make the inductee make an active effort to see more, to seek out what heaven offers.

The next scene is set in the same room, the blinds scrolled down but opened to let slits of light peek through as the last school bell of the day rang. Hypothetical-Donghyuck hurries in, sheet music held tight to his chest, and sits poised at the piano bench. His heart is thudding, the members of his unknowing audience see it pulse rapidly in its intensified colour.

Yerim then walks in, looking slightly confused as she sees Donghyuck sat inside alone. Nevertheless she approaches him with a soft smile and looks to the music he’s laid out in front of him. The practice had made the notes impossible to forget, he thinks, but he couldn’t not account for how nervous he would feel in front of her.

“So?” Yerim asks, nudging his arm with her elbow, unsure of his intentions but wanting to realize why he called her here in the first place.

Hypothetical-Donghyuck is petrified, has never been so clumsy about his own actions as he presses his fingertips down into the first keys and plays the wrong chord to begin. That sends him into an awkward fit of coughing that Yerim pats his back through until he’s composed himself. And yet he still needs help.

“Taeyong comes in with the courage…Now,” Mark says, his hand having risen to gesture this moment when hypothetical-Donghyuck seems to have his confidence emboldened. After straightening his back and assuming the correct position, he begins to play what had been on his mind and at his fingertips for the past month and a half.

“And now Johnny,” Mark whispers, letting the scene explain itself as the music room begins to lose its shape, leaving hypothetical-Donghyuck and Yerim in their own dreamy world of earnest emotion and music. It was how the both of them were to feel in such a situation, their mutual feelings reflected on their outward surroundings. A perfect means of bringing them closer to the happy end.

The comparatively drab music room snaps back into its place when the song has finished, and when he looks to Yerim, the previous courage having disappeared somewhat, he smiles shyly and asks what she thinks. Her chest exhibits the same pink glow of Donghyuck’s. Both of their hearts turn red when she takes his hands and presses them to her cheeks. Yukhei’s sure the angels would have been high-fiving for days over this one.

None of that mattered, Yukhei thinks. They only dated for two months before realizing they were better off as friends anyway.

_It does matter. It’s the experience that mattered._

Yukhei would like Jungwoo to stop eavesdropping on _his_ personal thoughts but he supposes there’s nothing he can do but send signals of resentment towards him instead. If he couldn’t stop it, he could at least make Jungwoo realize his interjections weren’t welcome.

_Not very angel-like of you to keep eavesdropping. Leave me the fuck alone._

Yukhei gets no response. When Jungwoo does reply with something discernible, it’s a deep sigh, and so Yukhei figures it was the archangel not being used to hearing anyone cuss properly. Again, heaven sounds like it sucks.

When he stops tuning out of Mark’s scenario, it seems to have run its course. Donghyuck is left in silence, probably feeling that same warmth of his adolescent adoration. Yukhei’s eye twitches.

_You let Renjun go first so Mark would have the upper hand, didn’t you?_

_I thought you wanted me to leave you alone._

_Just tell me._

_Yes._

Conniving son of a bitch. Veiling his selfish ways under the guise of being good-willed. Very heavenly of him.

_I’m kidding. You could stop assuming the worst of me. It’s irritating._

Yukhei grimaces at that. From a different perspective he wasn’t sure why he was being so hostile towards Jungwoo. He was the archangel, but it wasn’t like Yukhei had a reason to be snappy besides the fact of their opposing roles. Was it unprofessional of him to be burning bridges so quick?

_Yeah, it is._

When Yukhei glances up to see whether Jungwoo seems upset, he’s surprised to see the angel’s already looking back at him, _smiling_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reaching the end! i've made a curiouscat for any queries about the universe or prompts you'd like to see written (▰˘◡˘▰) i hope to get a lot of writing done during my break from school
> 
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/idlesong) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ten7s)


	4. Chapter 4

There’s a sudden commotion when Jisung crashes into the hypothetical realm, startling its current occupants. Somehow he’s found a way to enter from above, and the way he discovered this is something Yukhei would rather not know. The demon never conducts himself with much formality, nor does he care to learn it. He doesn’t come into places so much as he falls into them, jumping from one realm to the other as though he’s wearing spring-loaded shoes.

The sneakers that break his fall, however, are just regular Superstars that are immaculately clean. Yukhei wonders whether Jisung’s frequent excursions to heaven are to get them that pristine. They certainly wouldn’t be able to stay as such in hell. The devil had always assumed that those trips were made exclusively to play pranks on the angels, particularly Taeyong.

Once, with a voice that couldn’t stop cracking in its laughter, Renjun read out loud the seething complaint addressed to himself and Jisung for filling Taeyong’s house to the brim with packing peanuts. (As trusting as heaven’s residents were, they shouldn’t leave their doors unlocked.)

Yukhei only felt a _little_ bad for Taeyong. The more often the angel was bothered, the more likely it was that Renjun and Jisung would leave Yukhei alone. Sacrifices had to be made. Plus, Taeyong could use some excitement in his life. Yukhei swears the greatest risk he’s taken in the afterlife is all the hair bleach, considering hell is the only place where you can acquire colours as bright as the ones he uses. Jisung was sure to have put a scorpion or something in one of the outgoing packages.

“Doyoung filled me in a bit! Has he made his choice yet?” Jisung asks, wondering if he had been too late in his arrival. He hates missing soul collecting, especially when they turned into full-blown trials. The addition of any new demon to hell meant one more being to wreak havoc on or with.

“No,” Donghyuck says, intrigued at the sight of the first immortal being who appeared even younger than him. (There was Chenle too, he supposes, but he’s terrifying so it doesn’t count.)

“Goddamn it, why not—“ Yukhei begins to complain, before Renjun slaps a hand over the mouth of his boss.

“He means to say, what would help you make your decision?” Renjun asks instead, raising his voice enough to speak over Yukhei’s grumbling. Yukhei bites the inside of Renjun’s hand and the demon lets go with a yelp.

“I’d like to visit heaven again, if that’s okay,” Donghyuck says. “I want to ask Taeil some more questions.”

He’s gotten awfully polite since seeing Mark’s scenario, Yukhei notes with some annoyance.

_He’s trying to fit in already, I see._

_Nothing wrong with having manners. We tend to knock instead of falling in._

Yukhei actually snorts at that, but wipes the smile off his face when he realizes it’s there. Jungwoo’s already caught it though, he can tell by the way the angel’s general aura lights up in amusement. Yukhei hates that he can tell.

“If you’re going to heaven, I’m coming too!” Jisung chimes.

Mark and Jeno look immediately apprehensive to have Jisung join the journey. Maybe it’s because of how Jisung once spray-painted “Jisung wuz here :P” onto their wings while they had been distracted. The paint was water-soluble, but the problem of their bruised egos wasn’t as easily fixed.

“You’ve already come to hell, right?” Jisung then asks Donghyuck, who nods. “You should make another trip after we visit heaven! Renjun and I can _properly_ show you all the stuff we do for fun down there.”

This back and forth is going to take forever, Yukhei thinks with an internally rupturing groan. Humans are so fickle. When Jungwoo interjects, Yukhei’s already expecting it.

_You could be more understanding of his predicament. Wouldn’t you be indecisive if you were choosing where to spend eternity?_

_I can’t relate. Hell’s been mine from the start and I didn’t have a choice._

_From the start?_

Yukhei’s about to ask what Jungwoo means by that when Renjun nudges him.

“I suppose you’re not coming with us?” the demon asks, and Yukhei immediately nods his head.

“Yeah, this is done now,” Yukhei says, before turning to address Donghyuck. “If you decide to join hell—which you should—I’ll see you then. But if not, have fun being bored forever in heaven.” His half-sincere words are followed by him stretching his arms over his head with a yawn, eager to return to hell and take a _fat_ nap.

“Go on then, you all. Yukhei and I will stay behind and dismantle your scenarios for you,” Jungwoo says, and the devil immediately looks to him with an appalled expression.

“Thank you so much, sir,” Mark says with a bow, to which Jeno follows suit. Renjun and Jisung plug their ears with their fingers to drown out Yukhei’s sputtering noises of refusal. Everyone knew the most tedious part of the scenario was its clean up.

Yukhei, in a state of outrage, watches his and Jungwoo’s subordinates saunter away with Donghyuck, who turns back to wave as their figures fade out. The last trace of their presence, left reverberating through the realm for an additional moment, is Jisung’s loud question of “By the way, who’s that?”

 

Now that they’re alone, Yukhei is immediately suspicious of Jungwoo. For what reason could he have wanted Yukhei to stay? Yukhei _really_ doesn’t want anything to do with him. His migraine’s worsened since Jungwoo showed up and shoved himself inside of Yukhei’s thoughts, his telepathic messages probably pressing right up against the…hurt-y part of Yukhei’s head.

Jungwoo doesn’t say a thing though, just goes to begin putting away Mark’s quaint little scenes object by object. In the first vignette, the lockers disappear first, then the floor, before the people of the hallway begin to vanish one by one.

Yukhei sighs as he turns to the giant fucking cathedral Renjun created, and he considers trying to convince Jungwoo that it’d be sacrilegious of the devil to demolish a (hypothetical) place of worship.

_I’ll help you out once I’m done here._

Whether Jungwoo’s message is a response to Yukhei’s thoughts or just a gracious offer is unclear. As Yukhei begins to put away all of the individual floor tiles, silently cursing Renjun’s meticulous attention to detail as he does so, he suddenly has a thought to share.

_Why did heaven even put a claim on Donghyuck?_

Yukhei hadn’t kept tabs on him after he was born, when Doyoung had marked him as a potential demon. It was Doyoung’s job to keep an eye on him, after all, watch whether his life still suited him for such a position after it.

_I thought the same thing about hell claiming him. His nature’s much better suited to heaven. He’s caring and sincere._

_No, he’s observant and blunt. Ambitious too._

_Ambition is encouraged in heaven as well. They’re not as different as you think._

Yukhei doesn’t have an immediate comeback to that, so he just stays silent as he continues to work. Jungwoo can say they’re not so different, but Yukhei doesn’t agree. It’s gotten tougher. Hell wasn’t his choice to run, but he knows he’s meant to do it. The discrepancy between heaven and hell _must_ be severe if they have to sort through this bullshit procedure just to for one side to retrieve a single soul.

During this time Yukhei could have been keeping an eye on the rest of the realm, but in retrospect, he doesn’t mind having been a more active participant in this claim. The last time they had one with Yuta’s induction, Yukhei promised himself that after they welcomed in their next demon, he would consider retiring, or run away if they tried to stop him.

He would hole himself up in some deep, deep trough far into hell, even past the inferno, and spend the rest of his eternity in alternating thought and rest. (There would also be snacks and some Ninja Turtle DVDs but that would be it.)

It was strange, living the way he did. There was meaning to be had, so long as he did anything to show for it, but he didn’t feel like it anymore. Doyoung was already apt to take over, maybe even Sicheng if he felt like it, but Yukhei didn’t see a reason to continue himself anymore. Lately he had only ever felt like his responsibilities got in the way of his pondering. He likes the chaos his realm creates, but he doesn’t understand as well as his demons what was good or bad for the humans. He couldn’t tell whether he had ever been one.

All of those lingering human tendencies that still manifested themselves in instances of nail biting or fidgeting or repetitive humming, he didn’t possess any of them. Whenever another immortal recalled a feeling they attached to some earthly activity, he couldn’t sympathize. He was growing gradually apathetic to whether this role is some destined position of his. As the overseer of his realm, he thinks he has the right to choose his own fate.

If Donghyuck picked hell, Yukhei would quit for good.

_If you gave up just this one soul you’d be making my life so much easier._

Jungwoo responds to Yukhei audibly, approaching the remnants of Renjun’s creation. The floor was now bare, the choristers were losing their essence by the second, and Yukhei was working on folding away the pews.

“I’m sorry, but it’s part of my job,” Jungwoo says, sounding sincerely apologetic, which Yukhei loathes. “But as hard as Mark and Jeno work, Donghyuck could still pick hell.”

“Why do _you_ do this? You don’t get anything out of it,” Yukhei says, sounding accusatory in order to mask his own curiosity. He couldn’t answer the question himself.

“I’m fulfilled knowing I can still do good things. Make life better for other people,” Jungwoo replies easily, wearing a smile so bright that Yukhei has to turn away as soon as he sees it.

“God, you must have been a saint in your past life,” Yukhei retorts, and immediately regrets it when the smile drops off Jungwoo’s face. He looks sad. Yukhei feels a rare pang of guilt because the archangel’s disheartened expression is the emotional equivalent of seeing a kicked puppy.

“I heard you just now…thinking about retiring,” Jungwoo says softly. When Yukhei bristles, Jungwoo immediately adds, “I won’t tell anyone. Trust me.”

Yukhei’s reluctant to.

“But those others things, about not relating to any of those human experiences like your demons do? I feel the same way,” Jungwoo confesses, voice hushed like he could be overheard. “Sometimes I’m convinced that I was never a human in the first place.”

“Why do you think so?” Yukhei asks. What he hesitates in saying is that he always approached the same train of thought but never had the audacity to admit it to himself. He wasn’t sure why the thought petrified him so much, the fact that he was never a human.

“It’s just a feeling I have. No one brought me to heaven. When I woke up I was the only one there. Was it the same for you?”

 

It was. Yukhei’s first memory is of him waking up in hell, devoid of any other body-retaining immortals. There was no logic to what he knew, it was all instinct—he knew he belonged here but he didn’t know why. This is what he imagined amnesia would feel like, although he couldn’t say he remembered enough about amnesia to be sure.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but as though he was on autopilot, he went about exploring his realm. He had no sense of who he was, everything besides his name being unknown, and yet he had inclinations to believe he was in some form of the afterlife. Throughout those solitary few weeks, he developed the unsettling sense that he wasn’t entirely alone.

Eventually he found himself traversing the misty tunnel and entering limbo for the first time. The discomfort of being watched that he felt occasionally in hell was the most pervasive feeling in purgatory. It would be longer before he found out that he had never been unaccompanied. The souls that drifted through his realm, the ones that were in an endless procession awaiting judgement from Chenle, they had always been around him.

Chenle was the first being to whom Yukhei had ever spoken. As soon as he saw the seemingly teenaged boy behind his massive desk, he ran towards him. His eagerness in approaching the powerful figure was quickly rebuffed, with the premier putting Yukhei into place with a mere flick of his hand that sent Yukhei flying. So he wasn’t a hugger. That was okay.

“This might sound like a weird question,” Yukhei began, rubbing the back of his head after it had hit the edge of Chenle’s desk. “But do you know who I am?”

“It took you long enough to make it. You’re the devil, Yukhei,” Chenle said, hands folded in front of him. The unimpressed tone of his voice made Yukhei feel like he should have known that already. “I assume you want some help building hell?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Yukhei muttered. “I have no idea what I’m doing, really…”

Chenle glanced down at his giant book, tracing his fingertip down the long list of names in front of him before stopping, looking up towards what Yukhei thought to be an otherwise empty purgatory, and gesturing for something to approach him. “Come forward,” he commanded to someone who definitely wasn’t Yukhei.

Yukhei was convinced Chenle had lost it. This was all some fucked up dream he was having. Nothing had made sense to him from the moment he woke up. Now the first being he had talked to in weeks was talking to air. Or at least, that’s what he thought until someone suddenly appeared in front of Chenle, looking surprised to be there himself.

“You’re dead and in purgatory,” Chenle said bluntly. “I’d like you to go with the devil here and help him build hell. He’ll explain more once you get there. Is that satisfactory, Yukhei?”

Yukhei stuttered, not really knowing how to respond. “Why…How…Where did this guy come from?” he asked instead.

Chenle huffed. “We’re surrounded by souls. Haven’t you seen them in your own realm?” he said, looking at Yukhei as though he was inane for asking. Under his breath he mumbled “I knew this would be a bad idea”, and Yukhei was already too scared to ask for clarification.

“Take this and go,” Chenle said, conjuring up a black book with a thick spine and tossing it to the recently summoned man, who easily catches it in his arms.

The man blinked back at Chenle before looking to Yukhei, who gave him an awkward wave, and then shrugged his shoulders. “Okay,” he said, patting Yukhei on the back. “I didn’t think I was bad enough for hell but I guess that’s fine.”

“It’s not bad at all,” Yukhei promised, watching in earnest admiration as the clothes of who would go on to become his first demon started to fade to black, wings sprouting from between his shoulder blades. “Are you seeing this happen too?”

The man yawned. “Yeah, but I’m just gonna roll with it,” he said, strangely lax. “If I’m really dead then this isn’t too bad. And if this is some fucked up dream, then I’ll wake up soon enough.”

“I barely know what I’m doing. I just met that…that scary kid and he asked me if I needed help,” Yukhei admitted. “He told me I’m the devil, and I guess that makes sense considering no one else is there, but I also think there might be more people around like there might have been in purgatory and I just don’t know—“

“It sounds like you’re freaking out,” the man commented.

“I am! I don’t know what the fuck is happening!” Yukhei exclaims, on the verge of panicking. Now that he was saying all of this out loud he realized how bizarre it really was. He would laugh if he wasn’t so sure that he’d burst into tears if he tried. He also thought it’d be pretty pathetic of him to have a mental breakdown in the tunnel. He wasn’t sure if not being able to see the souls in the vicinity was a two-way experience, but he didn’t want to come off as _too_ big of a loser in front of hell’s entering residents.

“Let’s take a breath. That kid didn’t seem _that_ helpful but you could probably ask him for more…” the man paused. “What am I now? An anti-angel?”

“I don’t like that. Let’s go with demon,” Yukhei said, scrunching his nose up. Anti-angel made it sound like heaven should be the norm. Hell might be a fairly barren realm now, but he was sure could fix it up into something much cooler than heaven. He wondered if he was allowed to see the other side, or if stepping past the threshold would make him burst into flames.

“Okay, then. I’m a demon. That’s the kind of thing you’re allowed to decide, I’m guessing,” the man said. “I’m Sicheng, by the way. You should consider making manners a part of hell.”

“Sorry, this is still one of my first times having a conversation with someone. Ever,” Yukhei added. Realizing that made him feel strange too. “Can I see what he threw at you?”

Sicheng handed off the heavy book to Yukhei, who let out a small grunt of surprise upon feeling its weight. (It was more of a squeak but luckily Sicheng had been too intrigued with their surroundings fading into hell to notice.) He cracked open the leather book to its first page, almost losing his balance when all of its pages had to be supported by one arm. It was a journal of some sort, its pages filled with handwriting he didn’t recognize.

“Shit,” Yukhei said as his eyes scanned the words.

“What is it?” Sicheng asked.

“I don’t know how to read.”

 

Jungwoo had wandered into purgatory on his very first day. Chenle dropped a substantial book bound with white leather into his hands and sent him back until he needed more assistance. After reading it cover to cover, he returned to Chenle and asked him for one angel for now. Chenle gave a body to Kun and sent them to heaven. Jungwoo and Kun built heaven’s domains in accordance with what the book outlined. They rounded up the souls in the realm and helped direct them into their appropriate places of residence and paradise. Kun began to watch earth himself for more potential angels and put claims on their souls for once they entered purgatory. Heaven grew into what it was now.

 

“…That’s it?” Yukhei asks, baffled. “My story had so much more!”

“It’s been a long, long time since it all happened, Yukhei,” Jungwoo says with a soft laugh. Yukhei continues to think that he’s not used to hearing his name in such a gentle tone. He has absolutely _no_ other opinions on it. “I’m surprised you remember it in so much detail.”

Jungwoo took the liberty of putting away all of the stained glass windows and most of the furniture while Yukhei had been telling his story in all of its thoroughness. He was surprised that the archangel hadn’t caught on.

“What can I say? I live for the dramatics,” Yukhei says, leaning back dangerously far on his impious seat atop the altar as Jungwoo laughs. It still sounds angelic, but maybe a little less stupid this time.

A sharp scream pierces through the calm atmosphere. Donghyuck’s long forgotten “HEWWO?!” boomerangs back into the vicinity, its impact knocking Yukhei off of the altar.

Jungwoo snorts and zaps the sound away before it tries to lap itself. “Will you come clean the rest up now?” he asks, tossing candles into inexistence. Yukhei begrudgingly gets to his feet and begins folding away the altar.

“So you’ve never wondered what happened before you woke up? Ever?” Yukhei asks. All that’s left of the cathedral is its pillars and scattered decorations. He opts to fly up to where the columns once met the archways and knock them to the ground. Increasing his altitude seems to lessen his persistent headache somewhat. Curious.

“I try not to think about it,” Jungwoo says, continuing to clear away the mess of candles without any concern for burning himself on their hypothetical flames. “I can’t do more than speculate. There’s no way to confirm anything.”

“I mean…There is,” Yukhei says quietly, watching the last pillar fall and disappear before it hits the ground. “You could always conjure up a scenario for it and see what happens.”

The idea had occurred to Yukhei when Doyoung had asked, the first time he visited, whether the recreation of something that had actually happened would always play out exactly the same way. For the most part, yes, Yukhei was fairly certain that it would, as long as the components of the scenario that contributed to its progression of events were all there. That’s how they could be absolutely sure that anything they intended to happen would occur the way they wanted it to.

Jungwoo looks put off by the suggestion, his eyebrows drawn together in expressing all of the misgivings he has about Yukhei’s idea. Maybe he’s just nervous. Yukhei would be too. It’s why he hasn’t tried it himself. But with someone else who was in a similar predicament? That was far more reassuring.

_It’s against the rules. We’re not supposed to look into our pasts._

Jungwoo suddenly slipping into communicative thought is puzzling.

_Against whose rules? They’re our rules. And full disclosure, after Sicheng taught me how to read, I still didn’t finish the book._

_Excuse me?_

_Yeah, I read the Harry Potter series instead. But Sicheng read the rules and gave me a condensed version. I got the gist of it._

_That is so wrong, I don’t even want to think about how wrong that is._

_Could you actually stop thinking about it then? I can hear your thoughts and they’re hurtful. You think I’d be a Slytherin when I’m so clearly a Gryffindor?_

_Sorry, I guess that’s cliché. Someone still wrote the rules. They're not ours._

_Let’s just do it. Who cares? No one’s watching. It won’t have happened in any dimension but this one, and it won’t have happened once we clean it up._

_It’s dangerous. Someone could walk in. Chenle could find out. Don’t do it. Please, I know what’s best. Don’t needlessly endanger yourself._

_I’ve never understood why all of you cowards in heaven never take any risks. We’re already dead. And immortal. If I find out something I don’t like then I still have eternity to get over it. I’m so sick of living in the dark._

_It’s not about risk, you moron. You need to trust me. You’re going to hurt yourself._

“You keep trying to convince me that you’re not all that bad but now you’re being as uppity as I thought I was wrong about,” Yukhei says, taking a hostile step towards Jungwoo. “I pitched the idea because I thought you’d be interested in not blindly following your precious rules for once but it’s fine. I can still do it myself.”

“Yukhei, don’t. It’s not going to work. You won’t be able to handle it,” Jungwoo warns. His hands clenching up in front of him doesn’t go unnoticed, and Yukhei only inches closer, trying to ignore how much his head pounded.

“Don’t underestimate me. You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Yukhei snarls, and Jungwoo’s nails dig harshly into his palms. “Just get back to your fucking realm. Things are better when you’re not in my business.”

“You don’t know any better,” Jungwoo says quietly.

Maybe it’s juvenile of Yukhei to shove him in response, but it gives him enough momentum to storm away. He had to smother the desire to turn around and see if Jungwoo was alright, especially after he let out a pained groan upon hitting the ground with a hard thud.

Yukhei tries his best not to care, even when the throb in his head turns into a strain in his abdomen. It was a peculiar pain that he’s never experienced before. But as he creates a greater distance between himself and Jungwoo as he stomps off, the discomfort starts to alleviate himself.

Once he got far enough to focus and find his bearings he would build something quickly. He would let it play out until he could satisfy the curiosity he had been patient with for far too long.

Then he might do that whole retirement thing early. He wasn’t sure what the consequences of pushing over the archangel were, but he would prefer to stay in hell so as to not suffer at the hands of a certain pair of angels who were probably more sinister than they let on.

 

Yukhei’s almost certain he’s never been this deep into the hypothetical before. It’s hard to tell, of course, considering the state of the realm is endlessly constant, but it’s been hours since he’s left the demolished cathedral. Hopefully he’s gotten far enough that Jungwoo would give up trying to look for him. His words were still rattling around in Yukhei’s head.

 _I know what’s best. You won’t be able to handle it. You don’t know any better._ Yukhei wasn’t a child. He knew what would and wouldn’t be a liability. He rules over a realm that _creates_ all of the chaos in the world. He should have the right to spend his worthless time however he’d like, make his boring life as disorderly as possible if he wished.

Most of all, he’s cognizant of what’s good for him. He’s never been more levelheaded about anything. The one thing he continued to refuse to indulge himself in was exploring the question of his origin. He feared it would take away all that was left of what he found interesting. But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he builds a microcosm of hell, barren as it had been when he woke up. It takes him a while to get its details correct—he was out of practice—but as small as it was compared to Renjun’s to-scale scenarios, it was as accurate as could be. Next, he needs to create himself. Then it was a matter of rewinding time until the scene took him far back enough. He _needs_ to see whatever it was that happened before him.

His attempt fizzles, a spark flashing from his fingertips that makes him flinch. That’s never happened before. If something was illogical to the scenario, it couldn’t be produceable until the problem was reconciled. But Yukhei is certain there are no faults in the realm he knew better than anyone or anything. Furthermore, he’s never experienced, nor has he ever heard, of any conjuring producing a spark.

It’s a difficult thing to do, Yukhei tells himself. It’s probably a reaction to having to create a replica of himself. He had plenty of time for more attempts.

Once more, he pushes his palms forward with an abundance of power, but nothing happens. Instead, a crackling pain shoots up his forearms, making him cry out. It’s the same strange pain that he was feeling around Jungwoo, one that leaves his skin tingling like it’s healing from a burn. It hurts more than he thought was possible to be felt by him, but he’s left needing to try again. He wouldn’t return to hell until he accomplished this.

Yukhei takes his time trying to recover his strength. All he needed to do was channel one measly creation of himself. If he couldn’t do it then he would have to concede that Jungwoo was right, and he refused to prove his condescending remarks to be correct. Yukhei winces as he lifts his arms again, shoulder joints stiff and sore.

When he tries, he can tell he’s creating something this time, but all at once the entire scenario vanishes. Yukhei feels unbearable agony rupture his entire body. He screams sharply as he’s thrown from his place, lifted into the air and suspended there for an unexpectedly serene moment before he’s plummeting back down, too weak to get upright.

The last thing he sees is Jungwoo right below him, wide eyes staring back as he exclaims Yukhei’s name. Him being here, as painful as it feels, suddenly gives Yukhei clarity. He realizes why Jungwoo must have been trying to stop him.

Before he can hit the floor, his vision goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup nerds!!! it's all about to go down
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ten7s) | [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/idlesong)


	5. Chapter 5

Donghyuck is still unsure, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

Both realms have been tempting him with boundless opportunity. He thinks he would be happy in either one, which should make the choice less burdensome—but it doesn’t. Maybe he should have resigned himself to the realm Chenle had for him after all. The concept of the trial had been too intriguing to pass up, but had he realized the toll it would take on him, he may have passed on it.

The only disadvantage of either realm was one they shared. Being part of one meant having none of the other. They were at such extremes with each other that Donghyuck found himself changing his mind every other minute.

He doesn’t know where he belongs. He likes to think he would belong in heaven, but he isn’t sure if that’s due to his preconceived earthly notions of hell. His personality seems better fit for hell, but that might be applying demonic logic towards heaven. He isn’t sure of anything but the fact that his head is swimming.

Not only that, but he worries that joining either realm would be seen as a betrayal to the beings of the other side. The jabs taken at one another between the angels and demons were usually playful, but the resentful glares Yukhei was shooting Jungwoo made Donghyuck feel as though there was something more sinister going on.

Jungwoo, airy disposition and all, seemed trustworthy, albeit continuously reticent. Maybe it was bad of Donghyuck to judge the intentions of an archangel, but he thinks he would be equally at fault to think an angel could be perfect too. He still isn’t sure. His head hurts.

“Donghyuck? Everything okay?” Renjun asks in genuine concern. They were in the tunnel back from heaven when Donghyuck’s strange silence was questioned. He may be tired, they all are. The trial is an inevitably fatiguing process, but this bizarre, unfamiliar kind of lethargy is pervading all of them.

“Can we stop by purgatory? I have a question for Chenle,” Donghyuck says. The others blink at him in surprise. No one ever wants to talk to the all-knowing, all-powerful Chenle, not when he could strike anyone out of existence in milliseconds. Jeno points out that it doesn’t go against the rules, especially if Chenle himself would agree that Donghyuck has the right to have any of his questions answered in complete frankness.

The hypothesis doesn’t hold true when Chenle bluntly denies Donghyuck’s request to know where he would have ended up had the trial not gone underway.

“I can’t tell you that,” Chenle says. “You should have all inferred this from the start. I won’t interfere in the inductee’s decision.”

“But that’s the point. I want to know where you think I would better fit,” Donghyuck explains. “I’d rather work for the place where I would have been happier as a resident.”

Chenle holds his nose bridge between his fingertips and tips his head back, letting out a sigh. “And I’m telling you that you’re not allowed to know that. I don’t mean to be rude, but I have every single soul in the universe to place judgement on.” He gives the five of them a dismissive wave of his hand, the slight movement strong enough to blow them all off of his desk. They all manage to catch themselves into flight before they fall, except Donghyuck, who gets caught bridal-style in Mark’s arms.

“Very romantic,” Jisung comments snidely. Donghyuck throws up a peace sign until he’s put down on the misty floor of limbo. The leisurely gesture is short-lived, his stress manifesting itself into a long sigh.

Renjun gives him a reassuring pat on the back. He can’t imagine how difficult the decision must be for Donghyuck, especially considering none of the beings assigned to help him had ever been in this situation themselves.

All four of them were bestowed their respective realms, given the advantage of having a set purpose alongside the limitless nature of the afterlife. Renjun couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be presented with two routes of meaning, each point of one in direct conflict with the other. It was enough to send anyone into a spiral.

“Sorry that wasn’t helpful,” Renjun says. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

Donghyuck hums. Maybe he needs to consider it from a different angle, but he was uncertain as to whether his next questions had answers. “So Yukhei and Jungwoo run hell and heaven but did they create them?” he asks.

The angels and demons share nervous looks amongst themselves. The topic of origin is a taboo subject. It means a dialogue about a genesis beyond the scope of their understanding. Their respective leaders discouraged any discussion about it. Yukhei would say it was a waste of time, whereas Jungwoo would become plain uncomfortable.

Mark speaks up first. “No, they didn’t,” he says quietly.

“But there must have been an original creator? Or something. Right?” Donghyuck asks. The others all seem too apprehensive to divulge any further.

“Let’s not discuss this here,” Renjun says, throwing a sideways glance over to where Chenle sat high above them. “Back to hell, maybe?”

Donghyuck nods. He wonders what all the fuss is about.

 

“Okay, we’re only telling you this because it will definitely help you make your decision, right?” Renjun asks to confirm. They were sitting in Jisung’s personal residence of all places, a dimly lit room with giant speakers hung overhead and an overflowing closet of shoes. A typical teenage boy’s room, Donghyuck thinks, if that teenage boy was also a demon who only wore black clothing and had far more access to material items than any form of reality should allow him.

Mark and Jeno seem out of place as literal beacons of light in the dim cave of Jisung’s bedroom and amongst the less-than-pristine condition of cleanliness. It’s an emo phase externalized. It’s just so very Jisung, as Renjun puts it, plopping into a cross-legged position in bed next to him. The angels opt to sit on the floor, and Jeno only jumps a little bit when something slithers underneath and shifts the pile of clothing in front of them.

“Yeah, but what’s the big deal?” Donghyuck has been curious about why everyone seemed to quiet down when he mentioned it in the first place. They had been frank about everything else but this. Even the drawbacks of their own realms they could be candid about, but Donghyuck has never seen any of them frightened to discuss anything before. If they were scared of something in the afterlife, it must mean there were consequences to be had. Everything else could stretch itself out into meaninglessness, a lack of concern for repercussions if there were none to speak of.

“It’s not something that we’re not supposed to talk about, but we’re not supposed to not _not_ talk about it either,” Jeno explains, unhelpfully, because it doesn’t clear up the controversy of the situation at all. “It’s all speculation, really. So we can’t guarantee that we have the most accurate answers. If you confirm you understand that then we can tell you what we know.”

“I understand,” Donghyuck says, head tilting forward from the spot he had rested against the side of the bed frame. “Throw me all of your conspiracy theories, boys.”

“So there’s a big one about how the creators used to be a lot stronger than they were, but couldn’t sustain their own power and had to stop existing because of how incompatible they got with their own worlds,” Mark says. The story is met with some nods of familiarity.

“That rumour’s just noise!” Jisung remarks. “The _other_ story is that the creators fell in love and everything fell apart because of it.”

“How is that any better than mine?” Mark asks with a scoff.

“Mine has a better plot. Love is nicer,” Jisung shoots back.

“That’s funny coming from a literal demon,” Jeno quips.

“Then there’s that other one too,” Renjun interjects, voice hushed. “There’s the story…that they were always one and the same.”

That causes a silence to befall the room. Renjun is steely-eyed looking around to everyone else, all avoidant of returning his gaze. The sudden change of atmosphere is unsettling. The extended silence makes Donghyuck think that asking about this topic may not have been the wisest choice.

“That one’s really just noise,” Jisung says quietly. There’s too little confidence in his voice for it to be at all a convincing statement.

“I know we’ve all thought about it. It’d explain why we can only do so much right now…We have no control over the natural world. And we nudge humans this way and that but we aren’t capable of manipulation,” Renjun says. Mark and Jeno look especially uncomfortable as he continues his explanation. “Maybe if heaven and hell were the same at some point, the realm held too much power and it was overwhelming, even for the being who created it all.”

“But that would mean all of the differences between us mean nothing,” Jeno points out. “Why should we have separate realms and administrations and residences if it was all the same?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Renjun says. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be this way.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Mark says, clearing his throat in an unnaturally hoarse manner. “We shouldn’t be talking about things we’re not sure about.” Despite himself, he makes no point of redirecting the conversation. There was a morbid curiosity that nagged at all of them, answers to their questions either informally forbidden or avoided throughout the entirety of their careers in the afterlife.

Donghyuck can’t even begin to wrap his head around it, but he does choose to speak up before the silence descends into pure discomfort.

“Okay, I’ve made my decision,” he says firmly, which causes the other immortal beings to look to him in surprise. They didn’t think any of their answers would sway him one way or another. It was difficult to tell what exactly Donghyuck wanted at any given time. As reluctant as he had initially seemed, there was a greater determination in his voice now. “But I won’t say it now in case you guys try to convince me otherwise.”

“Oh, of course not, Donghyuck,” Renjun says, leaning down to wrap an arm comfortably around the inductee’s shoulders. “We would never dream of using such underhanded methods. In hell we just use straightforward maneuvers.”

“Exactly,” Jisung adds on with a mischievous grin. “Work in hell is simple and easy. A lot more fun too, since you get to figure out your own ways of meddling.”

Mark scoffs. “Very straightforward of you demons,” he says. Jisung just blinks at him innocently.

“Donghyuck was very touched by heaven’s work though, weren’t you?” Jeno asks, flashing him a brilliant smile that shines brighter than anything else in the vicinity.

“Stop smiling so loudly in my room,” Jisung complains, tossing a pillow in Jeno’s direction. Once soft impact is made, it feels as though a lamp was just turned off.

Mark clears his throat again. “Enough talk then. Let’s go find our bosses to tell them.”

 

When Taeyong hears his name being called just as he’s about to take a much-needed break, he has to work to stifle the groan about to leave his lips. If it was Johnny asking him to come back to Virtue, he might blow a fuse.

He wants to _rest_. There had been so much going on lately with the influx of souls coming into heaven and Mark and Jeno occupied with taking that inductee on a celestial field trip and the trial keeping even Jungwoo away from his usual post. What possibly more needed to be done? What was _so_ pressing that he was being called for when he was already halfway inside the entrance of the high angels’ residence?

Taeyong turns around and sees Jungwoo out of breath, the arm of an unconscious Yukhei hooked around his shoulder. Both of their clothes were torn, as though they had been battered by strong winds on a return trip from a battlefield. Last Taeyong had heard they were merely heading to the hypothetical realm.

“Um…uh…” Taeyong stutters out, unsure of how to react to the archangel coming into heaven’s highest-ranking residence with the devil in tow.

“Get Kun,” Jungwoo pants, sounding weaker than Taeyong had ever heard him sound before.

“What?” Taeyong asks, mouth agape.

“Get Kun,” Jungwoo repeats with greater urgency. “And tell him to bring the book.”

 

“I thought Yukhei was still with you all?” Doyoung says, impatiently tapping the end of his pen against his notebook. His brows scrunch together in an unamused realization of how the devil must be avoiding his responsibilities once more. “He isn’t hiding out in his office, I checked.”

“That’s odd,” Mark says, looking to the other four with a confused expression. “The scenarios were completely dismantled. He should have come right back.”

“He could be in heaven?” Jeno suggests, and Jisung makes an appalled noise that comes out as a choked-off laugh.

“Why the hell would he be in heaven?” he asks.

 

Kun is confounded upon seeing a body passed out in the lobby of their residence, unmoving and leaden as Jungwoo sits unnerved next to him.

“What happened?” Kun asks in alarm, crouching down to Jungwoo’s level and handing him the white leather bound journal.

Jungwoo takes a few more moments to compose himself, frazzled from the entire ordeal. It wasn’t like him to be so emotionally affected, especially not towards anyone already claimed by the other side. When he had finally caught up to Yukhei, guided by the crackling sounds of the attempts to recreate himself, he was too late in stopping him.

It was true that he should have stayed away from him in the first place. They had been a burden on each other from their first encounter. Jungwoo knew this, yet still he endangered the both of them to resolve his own interest. He would reprimand himself if he wasn’t so occupied with checking whether Yukhei’s pulse was continuing to prolong itself.

“Is this Yukhei?” Kun then asks, shocked to have his fear confirmed when Jungwoo gives him a nod. “Jungwoo…did you do this?”

“No!” Jungwoo denies immediately, shaking his head. “I just brought him back here. He doesn’t know everything I do.”

“So he didn’t know that you two are…?” Kun trails off, voice low in case anyone and their supersonic hearing were around to eavesdrop.

“He doesn’t. He tried to make a scenario of what happened before rebirth.” Jungwoo explains, frantically flipping through the pages of the book to see if there was anything of aid to the situation.

“And it kept rejecting him?” Kun asks.

Jungwoo nods. There was little in the book about what shouldn’t be done in the hypothetical, merely that trying to create something nonexistent would result in the realm’s vicious rejection. “I should have told him sooner,” Jungwoo sighs. “Instead of trying to keep everything apart.”

“It’s absurd,” Kun says, and the forthright response from the overseer is unexpected. “There’s no way around it. I know you were just trying to follow orders but those orders could be wrong. It was never guaranteed that things would be perfect.”

“I was just trying my best!” Jungwoo shouts, standing upright. “I didn’t know this would happen.”

Kun stares him down, places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it tightly. “Maybe we should take him to hell,” he says. “His demons might better know how to deal with this.”

“I…I can’t. I can’t enter that place,” Jungwoo says, shaking his head in vehement disagreement. The words tumbled out of his mouth with little reason he was aware of himself. “I can’t go back.”

Kun presses his lips together, unable to consider the ramifications of Jungwoo’s admission. The suspicion had always existed, but he knew it to be a self-preserving kind of secret, the kind that Jungwoo kept to maintain order. Watching his friend now though, in an agonizing moment of confrontation, made Kun realize that a change was necessary.

Jungwoo lets out a cry, holding his head in his hands. The pain that shoots through his skull makes him feel as though it may split apart. Again it would all split apart.

Being bound to Yukhei felt like the imperative verification of the past. There had been no need to make it public knowledge, not if heaven and hell were to remain separate as they were now. Now, seeing the devil unconscious and finding himself at the brink of unbelievable pain, he contemplates whether it had been worth it. It may have been the part of his consciousness that was given to him that forced to think the original plan contained no flaws.

Kun’s got him in an unsteady embrace, an arm wrapped behind Jungwoo’s back to prevent his legs from crumbling underneath him. “You _need_ to get him to hell,” he whispers, and Jungwoo can barely register the words alongside the subsequent tumbling in of other voices.

“Get back here!” Taeyong calls out, and there’s a thundering chorus of footsteps belonging to more people than are allowed to enter the high residence. The footsteps stop, and Jungwoo hears a faraway gasp before the dark smudges in his vision grow larger and drop to the floor. Several panicked calls of Yukhei’s name make Jungwoo’s ears ring. He winces struggling to find the strength in his legs once more.

Jungwoo can barely look at Yukhei’s inert body, pored over by Renjun and Jisung. “He’ll be okay,” he says before drawing his attention to Taeyong, Jeno, and Mark, all aghast at the presence of so many demons on such pristine ground.

“Jungwoo, your clothes…” Mark sounds meek, like all of the conviction has been drained from his voice. His words confirm a truth that Jungwoo has yet to visually confirm, but he already expects it himself. The white that blends into black, Jungwoo watches himself be graced with the uniform of hell. It wouldn’t be a permanent one, but he realizes he can’t withhold the truth any longer.

“I know,” Jungwoo says. “I’m going to hell. Are you coming with me?”

Mark and Jeno nod, obedient as always even in this the most dire of situations. Renjun and Jisung already have Yukhei’s arms wrapped around their shoulders, bearing his weight from either end. They don’t wait for further instruction, just run ahead of the angels as fast as their feet can carry them. Jungwoo motions for Mark and Jeno to go on, and they do, closely following the demons.

“Kun.” Jungwoo feels the pain clearing up now that Yukhei was a distance away, although he knew this wouldn’t be for long. “You could run it all for me, couldn’t you?”

“Will I have to?” Kun asks worriedly, distress evident in his tense voice, but the angel levelheaded as ever. Jungwoo wonders how long he had been speculating, how much he had known all along.

“I’m not sure,” Jungwoo admits before taking off to return to where he came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost at the end ;; w ;; thanks for sticking around! also on an unrelated note someone's been sending me a lot of markhei prompts in my cc lately so if that's your jam go check it out because idk if it's just one anon or what but they've made me [airplane emoji] markhei
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ten7s) | [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/idlesong)


	6. Chapter 6

Mark and Jeno fell into a slower pace when they had seen Jungwoo catching up to them in the tunnel. As deferential as they continued to be to Jungwoo, neither of them said a word relating to how his clothes had changed colour of their own accord. Such an incident was unprecedented, and it was exactly the kind of thing that they didn’t want to question.

The fact weighs heavy on their minds, that much can be inferred from how they continuously sneak glances at Jungwoo to see if any other aspect of him changes. Strangely or not, his wings remained white. The image was terrifying in its contradictory nature.

Almost every angel had a chance to visit hell for work-related reasons, but Jungwoo always chose to stay away. As long as he was at the helm of heaven’s operations he could delegate any tasks that required travel to his subordinates. That spurred the reputation of his elitism, perhaps, the perception running parallel to Yukhei’s opinion of Jungwoo.

Such rumours of how hell’s inhabitants view heaven’s eventually reach Jungwoo, and as much as he tried to keep it civil between the realms, it was difficult to maintain affability when he barely spoke to demons himself. The opportunity was constantly there—he only had to step out of his own threshold to see any of them passing through for work, but he feared it.

For as long as he deceived those who lived in heaven, he held the petrifying concern that if a member of hell were to ever lay eyes on him, they would discern that Jungwoo was one of them. He was never unaware that it was wrong to lie, even by omission, but the fear of isolation remained uncompromisingly enduring. That first stretch of time after he first opened his eyes featured an endless loneliness that he never wished to recreate.

When he first read through the book Chenle had given him, learned that the knowledge buried deep in his mind had an origin, he wanted to share it immediately. There was someone on the other side, he knew, someone to whom he could divulge the burdens and the possibilities. The book, however, warned against it. Jungwoo was not to share what he already knew with his counterpart. Knowing such a being existed was a form of suffering.

Even if heaven was the realm in which he had always lived, never did he feel truly apart of it. He held a suspicion as to whether he truly belonged, whether he had earned his place in heaven as opposed to being given it. The souls belonging to the realm, the angels who trickled in one by one, Jungwoo knew they all deserved to be where they were. Although their memories vanished as they crossed into the threshold of the afterlife, they were put in heaven because their lives on earth existed as evidence of their belonging.

Jungwoo had none. He woke up with nothing but the remnants of a consciousness that wasn’t his, the thoughts that deterred him from seeking himself out in the mess of fallacies. The loneliness began to return, even if the physical isolation was no longer fulfilled. Kun was the closest friend Jungwoo had, the angel whose commitment to heaven never wavered. He knew of Jungwoo’s hardships in their vaguest forms, but still made the effort to reassure the archangel of his place in heaven. For as long as he acted like he belonged, he did.

It was a persuasive course of action, one taken for self-preservation that could only last so long. As much as Jungwoo tried to convince himself by convincing others, he could never overturn his own opinion. The urge to look beyond heaven was too strong, and yet too intimidating.

Keeping tabs on Yukhei was always a hidden priority, information collected from the complaints of the angels who had crossed paths with him. Mark and Jeno, while remaining respectful, criticized Yukhei’s nonchalance towards his demons’ actions the most, although Jungwoo couldn’t say that he showed particular regard about how the angels went about their work either. He trusted them, and they had yet to break the faith, for they were angels who weren’t predisposed to doing that in the first place.

Taeyong seemed more appalled than anything at any stories of Yukhei and his more chaotic interpretation of residence in hell, while Johnny had always gotten along with the devil during his brief stint as a messenger between realms when Doyoung’s fate was being decided. Yukhei had always been barely more than a silhouette of person, a being whose existence had always run adjacent to Jungwoo’s despite them having never met.

The curiosity grew too great. Jungwoo couldn’t uphold his denial any longer. He had to meet him, and Donghyuck’s trial coinciding with Yukhei’s involvement had been the first such occasion for Jungwoo to see Yukhei at last. When Jungwoo finally met him he would tell him everything he knew about from where they came, the connection between them, the plausible reason for why they had come to be.

Approaching him in the hypothetical became a gradually painful experience. Jungwoo tried his best to hide his discomfort, but he knew enough of Yukhei’s mind to understand his distress too. It should have been a warning. Jungwoo pressed on.

The telepathic thought was big enough of a clue, the one Jungwoo should have used to discern his bond with Yukhei and rationalize it to him as well. Again he stopped himself from saying more. To admit what he thought could be true in its entirety was daunting. Jungwoo wouldn’t be able to bear the devil’s rejection or indifference to his cries for understanding.

Yukhei wanted to know too, it seemed, but Jungwoo kept denying him the answers. It was an ill-fated ploy, trying to prevent Yukhei from seeking out the truth when Jungwoo sympathized with his furious need to _know_ more than anyone. The fear remained. He couldn’t bring himself to bare his deepest concerns to the being who was as similar to him as possible while remaining his inversion.

It’s fitting that Jungwoo goes to hell now after all, with all of the reckless action he’s been taking for his own guilty purpose. He knows that entering the realm will chain him to it, make him unable to budge. This is what he deserves.

 

Jungwoo feels like he’s burning from the inside out. Has hell always been so warm? He thinks he’s broken into a sweat, which is strange, considering he’s never experienced the sensation before. But it’s an accurate assumption, he realizes as he presses the back of his hand against his damp forehead.

Renjun and Jisung have laid Yukhei’s still body on the floor of hell’s entrance, Doyoung in a state of mute panic at the state of his superior. Even without touching him Jungwoo can tell he’s fading. He strayed too close to what was forbidden to him and he would experience a fate worse than any else.

“The inferno,” Jungwoo says softly, the first word to be said since his arrival. It immediately makes everyone bristle. Speaking so bluntly about the inferno was anathema. “He’s going into _mū_.”

It was an instinctual guess, but Jungwoo firmly, horrifying believes in it. Yukhei’s soul would be expunged from existence, every fibre of his being untraceable, no method of ever bringing him back. As far as any of their knowledge goes, there was nothing that could be done once the process began.

“I’m getting Chenle,” Jisung says all of a sudden, and Doyoung is the one to respond immediately.

“Chenle doesn’t leave limbo,” Doyoung says. His words are automatic, but meek. He’s at a loss too, and he never thought he’d have to experience one again. “It’s useless.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I don’t care! We have to try something or otherwise the boss is…” he trails off, swallowing his fear away. “I’m going. I don’t care what he does to me.” Renjun looks reluctant before he shakes his head and goes after him.

Jungwoo remains silent as he goes to kneel next to Yukhei. When he presses a hand to Yukhei’s chest, he feels a pang. The pain feels like he does. Human.

 

“I knew this would all fall apart some time or another,” Chenle says with a sigh, casting a discontented look upon the scene. It had been a shock to all of them to see Chenle in hell. It was surprise enough to see him standing on his own two legs. Jungwoo had never once seen Chenle out from behind his desk.

Sometime during the agonizing wait for the demons’ improbable return with purgatory’s premier, Jungwoo had taken to keeping a hand on Yukhei, worried he would fade out at any instant. No one but Doyoung had ever witnessed it happening, and from the looks of it, he had no desire to see it again.

The one incident had happened shortly after Doyoung’s self-inducted arrival into hell. A particularly wicked soul had bypassed Chenle, but only for a moment. It was the most startling of sights to see Chenle running into hell to locate it. The process was difficult for Doyoung to describe, but it was an eradication that, although instant, demonstrated more strength and authority that he thought possible. It’s the most dreadful of fates, to be transported somewhere where its lack of anything would obliterate you.

A nonexistence, that’s what was scariest. It’s why Doyoung hated the hypothetical too, even if things could be put into it. Its default was still bare, and that terrified him.

“Chenle…” Jungwoo trails off, looking up towards him with a remorseful expression. How much Chenle knew about the contents of the leather bound books Jungwoo wasn’t certain, but he had always supposed his omniscience truly knew no limits.

“You need to get away from him right now,” Chenle says in an authoritative tone. “You’re making it all so much worse. You’re lucky neither of your realms have begun to collapse yet.”

“Why is this happening?” Jeno asks, head immediately ducking in deference when Chenle turns to address his question.

Chenle sighs. None of this is ever supposed to be questioned, but his faith that curiosity wouldn’t see itself through to the afterlife had never been particularly strong. He wants to take pity on them, but only for having kept so many human sympathies. He had never been fond of them himself.

“If you must know, since none of you seem to have any regard for minding your own business,” Chenle begins, shooting a pointed look at each of the other immortal beings in the vicinity. Renjun and Jisung glance at each other nervously, as do Mark and Jeno. “There _was_ an original creator, who was incapable of running the afterlife alone. I certainly didn’t have the means to help them.”

He maintains the entrance to the afterlife. That’s his responsibility. He couldn’t relinquish any of his own time. The idea to allow the souls themselves to take part in running the realms was originally Chenle’s, so long as the creator still kept watch over them. Chenle isn’t a staunch believer of human imperfection yielding the best results.

The creator was weary of having to house all the souls in one place. There were too many fundamental differences to allow for harmonious co-existence. A distinction needed to be made. Chenle wasn’t as sure; splitting one realm into two would mean the creator would have an even greater hassle managing them both, additional help or not.

That had already been thought of, which Chenle came to realize when two leather bound books were placed on his desk. One each for the new leaders. Chenle was still apprehensive. Two beings coming from one would mean less-than-flawless successors. With all of their potential faults they may as well be human.

“That’s the point,” was the last thing Chenle had heard before something gave way.

 

“You two are the spawns of that split, and you weren’t supposed to get acquainted. No wonder you’re both looking awful,” Chenle says, taking a step towards Jungwoo still crouched above Yukhei. Nobody else dared to make a move. The hostility with which Chenle approached the archangel and devil made them all still in fear.

“The creator wasn’t perfect in the first place. They didn’t split properly and now you two are threatening to merge back. You’re the antitheses of each other. Everything will collapse if it happens. Get back to heaven now before there’s nothing left but all of the souls backed up in purgatory.”

Jungwoo can’t. He’s frozen to his spot. The reassuring hands he had placed over Yukhei were _stuck_. Deep inside of himself, he can feel a sensation of being tugged forward to Yukhei. There are threads that always felt too short, cut bluntly at the edges and left frayed. Now they were growing again and reaching out. They tangle with Yukhei’s, wanting to bind together. It feels wonderful and terrifying all at once.

“Move, Jungwoo,” Chenle commands.

“I can’t leave him,” Jungwoo says, and he knows he would say the same regardless of whether he was physically capable. “I won’t.”

Chenle raises an authoritative hand. “If you won’t, then I’ll have to speed up the process. I’m sorry, but I’m sending Yukhei away.”

Jisung and Renjun look away, holding each other in an embrace that tried its best to be comforting in an entirely abysmal situation. Mark and Jeno walk towards the demons, encircling their arms around them as well. The sound of Renjun breaking into a sob is the last straw.

“No. Send me instead,” Jungwoo says, voice trembling. “I never belonged anywhere, so it’s okay. I’m not human or an angel or even a demon so just let me go.”

“You can’t!” Mark shouts, the only act of defiance Jungwoo had ever witnessed him commit.

The outburst makes Chenle briefly look away, but he quickly looks back. He seems unmoved, but he positions his hand further up to aim at Jungwoo. His arm seems to tense up, preparing itself to unleash a force none of them had ever witnessed.

The exception being Doyoung, whose voice stalls the process again.

“Jungwoo. Yukhei would be too proud to let you go on his behalf,” Doyoung says solemnly. “He won’t forgive you if you leave him alone.”

The last word resonates with Jungwoo. He would feel the same way, but there was no other choice. If one of them had to go for things to remain the way they were, then he would rather it be him. Even if it would leave heaven without a leader, even if Yukhei would hate Jungwoo, he would rather it be him. His vision’s already beginning to grow fuzzy, senses weakening as he feels himself grow closer to Yukhei, wherever his consciousness lay.

Someone would surely tell Yukhei all of it. His curiosity could finally be satisfied. It’s what he deserved to know from the start. Jungwoo wishes he could have been the one to tell him.

“Mark!” Jeno’s voice calls out in horror as he watches his friend grab hold of Chenle’s arm. It’s hardly threatening to him, Mark must know, but he can’t bear to have this happen. Chenle tries to pull his arm away but Mark’s grip is unyielding in a show of preposterous strength. Jeno soon runs to his aid to hold Chenle back, as do Renjun and Jisung, although it’s not enough to stop Chenle for much longer.

With a swift burst of power he blows the four of them away, although Chenle’s left out of breath doing so. Upon raising his hand again as he waits for his strength to regenerate, he meets eyes with Doyoung.

“Can they be split for good?” Doyoung asks, having placed himself between Chenle and Jungwoo during the struggle. “Even if they were originally the same being, is there any way to divide their souls properly? Break them apart like their souls belonged to humans?”

Chenle drops his hand, his expression unreadable. “You want me to try to do that for the sake of these two?” he asks, more out of disbelief than clarification. “You want me to leave the afterlife in the hands of humans?”

“That’s what the creator wanted in the first place,” Doyoung says firmly, putting up a wall of resistance in his gaze. “We shouldn’t be living like this. Separating the afterlife into so many divisive choices isn’t right. The creator may have split because they couldn’t handle it alone but these two…they can. I’ll make sure they will. Please, Chenle.”

Chenle looks exasperated. “You all still act like you were put here yesterday,” he huffs, taking a few irritated steps backwards. “You trifle like humans. It’s maddening.”

He disappears.

Doyoung snaps his head around to look at the others, Jungwoo having fallen unconscious atop Yukhei’s body while the angels and demons still lay in a pile groaning. They’re in pain, but they’ll be alright, he supposes.

Everything is still for another moment. Doyoung bristles thinking Chenle may return. But then he hears a sharp crack, and everything’s dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter left! it'll be a wrap up as well as an epilogue of sorts...this fic is my baby so thank you for the continued support ♡ [sneezing face emoji x5] also, i made a carrd and there's a page for my wips if you're ever curious as to what's coming up - link below uwu see you soon!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ten7s) | [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/idlesong) | [wip list](http://sihyun.carrd.co#wip)


	7. Chapter 7

Yukhei is standing in some oddly familiar surroundings. The walls encasing him and all of this furniture look as though they’ve been turned to the side, the strange choice of fuzzy wallpaper roughly brushing against the back of his head and tickling his ears.

The artwork looks more crooked than it should be too. It mostly consists of the crayon scribbles Jisung handed to him every once in a while to be displayed like the walls were the fridge door of a proud parent. Ten contributed his own paintings too, although those were to add actual artistic value to the decor. Yukhei is nothing without his aesthetic.

He’s also suddenly aware that he’s on the floor, and the realization makes him startle against the carpet as though he just woke up from a bad dream.

This is his office, isn’t it? His office that looks proper now that he’s sat up. Why is he on the floor of his office? He naps here plenty but there’s not one, but _two_ couches for that. He gets two because he’s the fucking devil and deserves options.

Now that he thinks about it though, he doesn’t recall waking up at all. It felt more like he was just shaken out of the strangest reverie. The feeling in his gut is uneasy, but his headache from before is gone. The headache that only got worse by getting closer to—

Jungwoo.

Now that Yukhei pays closer attention to his environment, he notices the sound of soft breathing. The archangel is asleep or passed out several feet away from Yukhei. That is also bizarre. Jungwoo shouldn’t be here. As far as Yukhei knows, he’s never stepped foot in hell.

He’s not sure what compels him to rudely wake Jungwoo up with an unceremonious kick to his shoulder, but Yukhei would do better collecting his bearings without a knocked out angel in the room. What if Doyoung saw? He would throw the biggest fit of them all.

Jungwoo lets out a groan upon his awakening that makes Yukhei flinch. Was such an unharmonious sound _allowed_ to come out of so pristine a being? Also, did he have any form of a recording device on him to film any potentially embarrassing actions from here on out?

The archangel’s eyes flutter open in the gracious manner Yukhei expects of him, head lolling from side to side in registration of his surroundings before he sees Yukhei and sits up immediately. His eyes are wide open now, the sight of Yukhei having roused him from any remaining fatigue. Yukhei would feel the same way, he thinks, if he found himself in the domain of his sworn enemy.

“Yukhei,” Jungwoo whispers, peering at his face with a mix of concern and wonder. “You’re alive.”

Yukhei yelps in surprise when Jungwoo dives forward to wrap his arms around him. The first instinct to push him away seems wrong for some reason, so instead Yukhei lifts his own arms as though in surrender.

“I’m _not_ alive. I’m dead like you, dumbass,” Yukhei says, but then Jungwoo’s crying gently into his shirt, getting the fabric uncomfortably damp against his skin. It’s not a nice feeling by any means, but again, it feels like he shouldn’t be pushing him away. At least his headache’s gone. He wants to comment on it, but doesn’t think he should ruin the moment with a verbal interjection, so he tries to dip into his telepathic line to Jungwoo.

Nothing happens. Whatever connection that exists between them used to be so close it was almost tangible. Now there’s nothing to be found, barely a trace of the force he would have to barely reach out of himself to access. It’s like something’s been severed from him. Something important.

“Jungwoo,” Yukhei says, the uneasiness growing stronger at his realization that Jungwoo’s clothing is black. That was _definitely_ wrong. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t remember exactly. I passed out when Chenle was about to banish me…If this is it, then why are you here with me?” Jungwoo’s demeanour takes on a panicked tone all of a sudden, and Yukhei scoffs.

“This isn’t the inferno, this is my office,” Yukhei deadpans.

Jungwoo’s panic seems to settle down upon hearing that, although it doesn’t clear up any of Yukhei’s own confusion at all. When did he even end up back here? The last thing he recalls he had been in the hypothetical with this way too nervously energetic angel, and he had said something to make Yukhei push him over before he had stalked off.

“I was trying to make that scenario—“ he recalls aloud, and Jungwoo nods. “But the realm kept rejecting me.”

“I don’t know if Sicheng ever explained that bit to you,” Jungwoo says, biting his lower lip. (Strange. Neither he nor Jungwoo were supposed to have such habits.) “If you try to build things that can’t exist, the hypothetical will repel them. Violently. And neither of us existed before we woke up for the first time.”

“So where did we come from?” Yukhei asks, heart thrumming against his chest. For once he feels like he can get some answers. Even though he doesn’t have much recollection of anything, something feels definitively different. It feels like his world’s been straightened out somehow, a crooked painting on a wall finally looking how it should be.

“There’s…a lot to explain. You might not like it, but we used to be the same being,” Jungwoo begins, watching Yukhei’s face carefully for any averse reactions. The information seems to be processing with some difficulty. His expression undergoes a parade of emotions—disbelief, contemplation, shock—but he’s remained silent, so Jungwoo continues.

“We were never human. Our realms used to be one until the creator decided to split it into heaven and hell and themself into us. Something between us kept trying to put itself together, but it would have led the realms to disaster. When Chenle found out, he wanted to send you to the inferno. Then I offered to go instead—“

Yukhei finally speaks up. “Why would you offer to go?” he asks, sounding as bothered as Jungwoo would have expected him to be, but then goes on to address a concern that Jungwoo hadn’t expected him to. “What would have happened to heaven? All of your angels and fluffy clouds and spick-and-span residences?”

“I was having a crisis. Still am, actually,” Jungwoo admits. “I don’t belong there.”

“That’s utter bullshit if I’ve ever heard it,” Yukhei says with a scoff. Jungwoo winces at the obscenity, and if he could still communicate it telepathically, Yukhei would probably tell him to grow up. “Belonging never mattered. Everyone gets put where they are for a goddamn reason. Maybe it’s not always the best fit, but you end up finding what you’re good at. And in your case, you were _phenomenal_ at being a pain in my neck. And, I guess, at running heaven too.”

“You seem to have thought about this a lot,” Jungwoo says instead, not being able to deny any of his words, as hesitant as they made him feel.

“Of course I have. If I’m trying to figure out how I ended up here I’d hope to hell that I was meant to be here. And if I wasn’t, that’s not going to stop me from doing whatever I want either.” Yukhei’s tone, for someone who was just told he’s the other half of his immortal enemy, is strangely boisterous. It’s something he realizes himself when he hears the words coming from his lips. There’s less reluctance in his throat, more assertion at his tongue. He feels like he’s coming into himself all over again.

There’s a knock at the door. It’s surely Doyoung, because no one else in hell ever bothered to knock. His courtesies only go so far though, considering he is a demon, and he soon sticks his head through the doorway, eyes brightening upon seeing that they’ve woken up.

“It’s been reset,” he says, looking happier than Yukhei’s ever seen him. “It’s not exactly different but Chenle’s done his best. I’m assuming you two are disconnected for good now.”

“Disconnected _and_ disoriented,” Yukhei says, holding his thumb up. “Thanks for doing whatever you did to make sure hell didn’t collapse in my absence.”

“No need to expect anything less from me,” Doyoung smiles. “I know you’re probably exhausted, but I’m going to need you to get out here as soon as possible. I’m holding it together best I can but everything’s still a little chaotic.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” Yukhei points out.

“You know what I mean. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t leave me to take care of this dumpster fire alone,” Doyoung says.

“It means a lot, but for the record, I won’t rule out running out on you in the future,” Yukhei says. “Eternity is a long time to have to run a dumpster fire, Doyoung.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Just get out here when you’re feeling better. Renjun and Jisung have been waiting for ages. Have fun being disconnected.”

“Disconnected,” Yukhei repeats quietly to himself as Doyoung leaves. “I guess that explains why there’s no more little devil in your thoughts, Jungwoo. We’ll have to use regular mail just like everyone else.” He lightly shoves the archangel’s shoulder, throwing him out of his concentration.

Jungwoo is gobsmacked at how Yukhei seems to be taking this all in stride, going along with things as they come. Nothing seems to be holding him back anymore. Is this who he’s truly supposed to be when he’s detached from Jungwoo? Is this who Yukhei was all along? Having known there was a point of origin that linked them before made Jungwoo think that they possessed an ability to understand each other like no one else could, but perhaps he had been projecting his desire to not feel alone on Yukhei.

After all, Yukhei is, despite his genesis, another soul. That’s how it’s meant to be. Jungwoo should accept that about himself too, but he doesn’t know how.

“Jungwoo,” Yukhei says, getting his attention again. “You should be getting back to heaven soon too.”

Jungwoo nods, feeling very small. As much as he knows about how things have changed around them, it’s the same for him. How pathetic, he thinks, to have undergone so drastic of a transformation but to feel no difference.

He hears Yukhei exhale. “Are you okay?” the devil asks. They’re still sitting on his carpet, legs splayed out comfortably in front of them. Jungwoo wonders how long they were asleep, what had happened in the time after he felt too weak to recognize the world around him.

“Are you?” Jungwoo asks instead, continuing to speak when Yukhei answers with a nod. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go back. They might think I’m a fraud.”

“Oh shut up,” Yukhei says with a snort. “Heaven’s too nice to be occupied with your imposter syndrome. They need you back there, you know. It’s where you’re supposed to be.”

Jungwoo sighs dejectedly. “I know. It’s hard having to confront this. Getting whatever was left of the creator’s consciousness was definitely the worst side of the deal,” he says.

“I mean, you also got literacy and the better parts of their personality,” Yukhei points out. “I was just a full grown baby when I woke up. I’m lucky I even knew how to walk and talk. The creator’s kind of an asshole for making it so inconvenient.”

“No one’s perfect, I guess,” Jungwoo concedes, managing to form a small smile.

“See? So get your ass to heaven so I can see how much damage Chenle’s done,” Yukhei says. “I’m sure your angels are waiting for you. They’re loyal. They never shut up about you. They’d back you up for anything. Maybe just tell them to ease up on all the hell hate.”

“After all they’ve been through, I don’t think Mark and Jeno will be so critical,” Jungwoo remarks, smile returning when Yukhei laughs. It’s a nice sound. He’s glad Yukhei isn’t able to hear him think so. “I really should get going, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re already dressed for it,” Yukhei says, jutting his chin towards Jungwoo’s clothing turning back into white. “Even your uniform knows you’ll be fine.”

“We’re not going back to the way we used to be, right?” Jungwoo asks.

“Heaven and hell or us?” Yukhei replies.

“Both,” Jungwoo says. “I know we’re not really friends—“

“Considering I definitely need to get caught up on whatever the fuck happened while I was knocked out, I won’t be opposed to talking to you again,” Yukhei says, the assertion surprising Jungwoo. “I realize I’ve had my spots of immaturity, and I’m sorry about them, but I’ll try not to let my self-preservation instincts get the best of me anymore. So get back there. I’ll send you another sarcastic sticky note when everything’s settled here.”

Jungwoo’s bottom lip quivers. It’d be a timely cue to say goodbye and leave now, but he can’t help but leap forward towards Yukhei again. The devil lets out a noise of complaint before finally relenting and returning the hug, the feeling of his arms around Jungwoo being a surprisingly nice one. He tries to ignore the swell of his heart, the sensation unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

“I’ll be in heaven then, but reach out soon,” Jungwoo mumbles, pulling away with a smile. “And I’m sorry for signing off on all of those trials. I won’t stop, but I’m sorry.”

Yukhei shakes his head, hoping his face only feels warm and doesn’t look like it. “And I’m sorry for not stopping my demons from wreaking havoc in heaven. I won’t stop, but I’m sorry. Maybe if Jisung figures out how to dim the lights there I’ll visit voluntarily,” he says.

“See you soon, Yukhei,” Jungwoo says with a smile, getting to his feet and seeing himself out.

Once the door clicks shut, Yukhei lies on his back again, spreading his long limbs and stretching. He’s tuckered out from it all, definitely needs some more time to recover when the day’s done, but he can’t remember the last time he had felt so awake.

 

With eyes full of tears that he blames on allergies (demons don’t have allergies, Jisung points out), Renjun’s just released Yukhei from a spine-shattering hug when the devil makes a compelling observation. In the midst of the chaos, no one seems to have realized something very important. The question drops from Yukhei’s lips as soon as he took a look around the premises to confirm that it needed to be asked.

“Where the fuck is Donghyuck?”

Evidently, judging from the jolt and the wide-eyed look exchanged between Renjun and Jisung, no one knows. Yukhei muffles an exasperated noise into his palm. How could all of them let him get away? Sure, the world as they know it had been collapsing around them and the highest authorities were close to death on the ground, but _still_ , what idiots.

“You idiots!” Doyoung shouts, beating Yukhei to it. “You couldn’t take a second to leave him with anyone? Let him stay somewhere safe? Take him with you?”

“Okay, before you get mad,” Renjun begins, the initial sentiment belated, “We were in a _real_ rush. Also, leaving Donghyuck with like, _you_ , wouldn’t be doing us any favours of trying to convince him to stay.”

“He’s probably still somewhere around here!” Jisung adds on. “We’ll find him right away.”

Renjun nods confidently, conjuring up a megaphone and screaming into its receiver as soon as he’s able. The exclamation of “HEWWO?!” makes Yukhei grimace and Doyoung scoff. It’s repeated several more times, much to the others’ chagrin, until they finally get a response.

A voice calls back, apparently engaged in this inane game of Marco Polo.

“There!” Renjun shouts, pulling something unseen to the rest of them as something in his grip flashes bright yellow.

Donghyuck, in his grey-clothed glory, retains a body once more, looking disappointed that he could no longer whiz about. It was fun while it lasted.

“Okay, finally. We can only keep you so long before heaven remembers you’re here so spit it out—are you with us or not?” Yukhei asks, tapping his foot with impatience. Surely Donghyuck would pick hell now, right? It was partially his fault that Yukhei had to make a trip near the inferno and back.

Donghyuck laughs nervously. The sound makes Yukhei’s ears twitch in annoyance. He swears he’ll roll up his sleeves to give the twerp another noogie if he doesn’t say something soon.

The inductee shrugs. He fucking _shrugs_. “I dunno,” he admits.

“What do you mean? You said you made your decision when we were in Jisung’s room!” Renjun shouts, nervously glancing over at Yukhei and Doyoung.

“Yeah, I didn’t know then either. I thought I’d just be able to make my choice on instinct when you finally asked,” Donghyuck says. “But I don’t know. I can’t decide between the two! It was all the same at one point, wasn’t it? How am I supposed to pick?”

Yukhei is unimpressed, despite his best attempts to be sympathetic to Donghyuck’s dilemma. Maybe if he hadn’t, perhaps, almost _died_ recently he would be more understanding of such a decision. He looks to Doyoung with an expression of exasperation.

Doyoung clears his throat. Loudly. “I’ve been thinking of ways to revamp the administration somewhat. It’d leave us with a vacancy we need to fill. Something that’d involve your work in both realms,” he explains.

“Whatever it is, I accept,” Donghyuck chimes all too quickly. “I’m kind of over all of this bureaucracy. I just want to start doing something.”

“That’s the spirit!” Renjun chirps, smacking Donghyuck so hard on the back he winces. “Congrats, Donghyuck. Today’s the first day of the rest of your afterlife!”

Yukhei groans.

 

Donghyuck becomes heaven and hell’s liaison, the bridge between the two realms. His work is imperative to the facilitation of communication between angels and demons. The duties of both realms remain divided as they are, but they’re more mutually receptive than ever before. He occupies a role of utmost importance in the restructuring of the immortal system.

“I’m a glorified delivery boy. A celestial mailman,” he grumbles, shoving multiple envelopes into the messenger bag that had been created for him. Even the nicest angel would admit that it’s a bit of a patchwork monstrosity, but it got its job done. “You can bring this ugly bag into existence but none of you immortals can email each other?”

“I put effort into that bag, you ungrateful miscreant. You belong in hell after all,” Taeyong says, handing him another letter to be delivered. His hair is a shade of light brown today, much milder than usual, although his general demeanour is anything but. Donghyuck wonders how he and Doyoung got along during their brief overlapping stint in heaven.

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at him, but doesn’t refute it verbally as he walks away. Part of splitting his time between realms meant learning some virtues, like the one that made him hold his tongue (knowing that one day he would have the perfect opportunity to say that he knew Taeyong’s correspondence with a certain demon of deadly sin was anything but professional).

“Hey, it’s our carrier pigeon!” Jeno chimes from above, waving at Donghyuck with his usual perfectly brilliant smile. Both he and Mark swoop down from their altitude to land in front of Donghyuck.

“That’s _sir_ carrier pigeon to you,” Mark says.

“I won’t feel bad giving you a wet willy, angel or not,” Donghyuck deadpans, and Jeno cups both his ears as a preventative measure.

“When you’re down there can you tell Renjun and Jisung to come by later?” Mark asks.

“If we’re playing video games come to hell instead. Heaven’s games are boring,” Donghyuck says. “And bring Jaemin. He’s been wanting to visit.”

“If he goes to hell he’ll want to stay,” Mark says with a knowing smile, before nudging Jeno in the side. “We’ve gotta get going before Chenle smites us for being late.”

“Right. We should invite him to hang out sometime so he eases up on us,” Donghyuck adds, and the three of them burst into laughter at the thought.

“Maybe we’ll ask,” Jeno says. “See you, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck waves as they fly away before his own wings unfurl for take-off.

 

Donghyuck’s suspicions about certain immortals are confirmed whenever he visits their domain. Jaehyun, for example, is far too happy to be receiving quote-unquote “work updates” from Taeyong in the mail. Yuta, on the other hand, doesn’t even blink at Donghyuck when he comes into Perspective, just points him to where he can drop off their mail. He and Sicheng most often got mail from Taeil, with whom they had been completing joint assignments after an influx of creativity on earth made them realize they could benefit from working together.

Earth is fine, as far as Donghyuck knows. He doesn’t pay too much attention to how the humans are doing, considering his own job doesn’t concern them. Besides, the immortals are barely any different, aside from their monochrome wardrobes and feathery wings. His own are a bit of a mix-and-match, with black clothing and white wings. Renjun had taken one look at him before breaking into nervous laughter, the reason for which Donghyuck never bothered asking for.

One thing about the job that Donghyuck has come to enjoy is how much he gets to know of both administrations. The angels and demons are interesting, seemingly flawless even, but as time goes on Donghyuck comes to see how many secrets they really keep. Of course, nothing had surprised any of them more than Yukhei and Jungwoo’s origin story, but it didn’t cause as much of a ruckus as Donghyuck had thought it would. If anything, everyone seems to be getting along better now. Since he can take partial credit for that, he does.

Renjun and Jisung are sword-fighting with what Donghyuck thinks are real lightsabers when he passes them on his way to Yukhei’s. Upon seeing him, they drop their weapons and run towards him, already out of breath from their excruciating exercise. Donghyuck rummages through his bag, recalling something he needed to give to Renjun.

“I’m always amazed at that Mary Poppins bag of yours,” Jisung comments, Donghyuck’s arm buried up to the shoulder to retrieve a package. He slides it over to Renjun, who unceremoniously tears off the meticulously wrapped tape.

There’s a stuffed white hippo inside, far too innocuous to be anything but a heavenly creation. Renjun flushes at the sight, mumbling something along the lines of “he remembered” when he picks up the accompanying card. His cheeks grow even pinker upon reading its words.

“What is it?” Jisung asks, and Renjun immediately snaps out of his trance to hide the plushie and card behind his back.

“It’s nothing—“ he begins to say, before Donghyuck saves his ass.

“Mark and Jeno are coming over later,” Donghyuck interjects, before throwing a pointed look over to Renjun. “So is Jaemin. Maybe Chenle.”

“Chenle? Why Chenle?” Jisung asks in an incredibly puzzled tone, having effectively forgotten about whatever Renjun is now stuffing into the pocket of his hoodie. He doesn’t blame Renjun for hiding it from Jisung up until this point. As much as the general dynamics between the realms have changed, it’s still a tad taboo to admit to anything greater. It’s why the secrets still prevailed, as much as they didn’t need to, but Donghyuck supposes that the afterlife wouldn’t be as interesting without them.

“I dunno, I thought it’d be nice to invite him. He’s always in purgatory by himself,” Donghyuck says with a shrug.

“I guess. Doyoung’s still kinda scared of him though,” Renjun adds. “Not that I hold it against him. He did send us all flying that one time too.”

“Yeah, Mark really snapped that day,” Jisung says with a low whistle. “Made me realize he might be the only guy in heaven I’ve ever respected. Besides Jungwoo, since he’s kinda one of us.”

“That’s still crazy to me. I know we never really _met_ him before all that shit went down but it’s wild to think that he and Yukhei used to be the same being. They seemed so different,” Renjun says.

“Not so much these days, huh? They’re practically attached again,” Jisung snorts.

“You’ve noticed too?” Donghyuck asks.

“It’s hard not to. Yukhei’s definitely not in a good mood all the time because of us,” Renjun says. “You should see how giggly he gets when he thinks no one’s watching.”

“Trust me,” Donghyuck sighs. “I know.”

 

Yukhei is tapping his fingertips against the surface of his desk, exhaling sighs in wisps of fire because he can and he wants to. The whole plan for retirement went kaput after he realized his life had more unknowns than he thought it did. For so long he thought his complete lack of an origin story was pointing him nowhere. Now that he knows there’s more to it all, that he has a real purpose, he thinks it’s worth staying around for at least a little while longer.

He wouldn’t want to cause Doyoung the extra stress after all the demon had done to revamp inter-realm communication. Considering there used to be little communication to speak of, Doyoung had to create an entire system of correspondence and employ the necessary beings in an impressively short amount of time. It was his greatest feat yet, if one were to ask him, although he was the only being capable of accomplishing even what was unheard of with his unique knowledge of how both realms operated.

As for Yukhei, he’s been trying his best. Ever since the complete split, as he and Jungwoo had taken to calling it, his ubiquitous fatigue seemed to disappear. His headaches stopped too, although Jungwoo occasionally taking to be more affectionate than Yukhei was once used to had given him a different kind of pain. It wasn’t to be admitted to anyone yet, least of all hell’s residents. Yukhei is fairly sure Renjun and Jisung would never let him hear the end of it.

Those two seemed to be getting chummy with some angels anyhow, so maybe Yukhei wouldn’t be so ridiculed after all. Almost dying with someone is a good bonding experience. Maybe he should pass along the information to Johnny next time he’s facilitating an angel-demon workshop. He’s still the best of the angels, Yukhei thinks, and he’s glad Jungwoo can’t read his thoughts anymore or else he would have to face the wrath of his tearful pout. It’s maybe one of four things in the universe against which Yukhei is absolutely weak.

Chenle’s taken to figuring out a way to expedite his own process so he can take breaks himself. Yukhei is curious as to whether his frightening nature has alleviated itself even a little as a result, but he’s still not one to make too much conversation with Chenle. Receiving a “sorry I almost banished you but it was for everyone’s own good” letter, delivered by Donghyuck as his first ever task, was an appreciated gesture, but that didn’t mean Yukhei isn’t still scared as shit of Chenle.

Jungwoo seems to fare better, as he always has, but it’s never stopped him from flying quick to Yukhei’s side when the both of them had time to spend together. Initially it was a spectacle to see the archangel and devil walking side-by-side around either of their realms—although Jungwoo is far more comfortable in hell than Yukhei in heaven—but they’ve since found a solution. Some confirmation from Jungwoo would assure their meeting later.

“Yo,” Donghyuck says in casual greeting, walking into Yukhei’s office with barely a knock.

“Sorry, who are you?” Yukhei asks pointedly, making Donghyuck flip him off.

“Nirvana’s postal service, asshole,” he says, plopping down into the chair in front of Yukhei and resting his feet atop the devil’s desk. “You should act warmer to me, boss. It’s all because of yours truly that things are so much better now.”

Yukhei can’t disagree with that, but he doesn’t feel like admitting Donghyuck is right. Whenever he enters his office with the most mischievous of grins, Yukhei almost feels disappointed that such a good demonic candidate was squandered. It would be a pity if he didn’t know how much Donghyuck belongs somewhere in between.

Everyone deserves that kind of between, Yukhei’s come to realize. It’s why he and Jungwoo have grown more lax about who comes and goes in their realms. There’s places to which one can belong, but there’s also so many more places one can explore. Yukhei wants both.

“Did you hear me? I said I have a letter for you,” Donghyuck says, waving an envelope over his head.

With a motion of his hand, Yukhei pulls it towards his grip. “Thanks,” he says flatly, attention already given to his mail’s heavenly return address.

“Unbelievable,” Donghyuck sighs, never anything but unimpressed when he sees his envelopes floating about. At least someone like Ten would have the decency to let Donghyuck hand him his mail. “Why even have me do this if you can just snatch it out of my hand like that?”

“Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we’re inefficient,” Yukhei says patronizingly before tearing open the envelope with a giddy grin. His eyes take several moments scanning over Jungwoo’s neat penmanship. Yukhei collapses into giggles.

“I can’t believe you’re the devil,” Donghyuck groans. “I’m delivering the devil’s handwritten sexts. I’m an immortal dick pic.”

“They’re not _sexts_ ,” Yukhei hisses, although he can’t help the vapid laugh that leaves his lips when he reads further down the letter. It’s not vulgar per se, but it’s hard to squash the automatic urge to smile.

“You can definitely lie in hell, so I’m going to choose to not believe you on this one, chief,” Donghyuck says with a sigh, getting up out of his chair and giving a two-fingered salute to Yukhei. The devil is too occupied with Jungwoo’s words to notice.

 

Yukhei’s spent too much of his time thinking he would find purpose in a nonexistent past that he didn’t notice that’s not how it’s meant to be. His work has been for the sake of facilitating the hereafter, granting good minds and ideas to those who deserve afterlives full of enriching experience. There’s nothing better he could be doing, especially if his job, while important, is one of so many. He thinks he’s been too caught up in finding what’s interesting in his own life to care at all about those of others.

What’s interesting has been the opportunities someone in his situation is presented with, to have been put in such a position that he can oversee how every soul that passes through is fascinating. It disappoints him to think about how long he had lived in apathy.

Jungwoo convinced him to not pay it any mind if he could help it. The advantage of the afterlife is having eternity to make amends. Yukhei would argue that the greatest benefit is creating a paradise with no threshold for perfection. They’ve agreed to disagree about it until it’s brought up again. They could talk about it forever.

Yukhei and Jungwoo meet in the middle. It’s a compromise that makes sense for them.

It took a great feat of coaxing to convince Yukhei to step into the hypothetical realm again, considering it was damn near close to being his grave site, but Jungwoo had assured him it would be worth it. He had set up something permanent there, and the sight of it made Yukhei stare in disbelief.

“Is this your grandiose way of asking me to move in with you?” Yukhei had asked, staring up at the two storey house smack dab in the middle of nothingness. It’s quaintly suburban. Its warm colours bleed from wall to brick, how the slope of the roof dips gracefully, and the pathway leading from nothing is well tiled.

The house is furnished sparingly, considering they rarely spent enough time in it to treat it like a real place of residence. Yukhei points this out from time to time, how it feels like a bland attempt at creating something real. Jungwoo will say that’s the point, and doesn’t say anything more. They have no photos with which to decorate the walls, so they’re left bare save for one of Jisung’s drawings that Yukhei couldn’t resist bringing. Jungwoo found it oddly charming.

It was never meant to feel real, Yukhei comes to realize. A human recreation doesn’t suit them unless they manipulate it to their needs. This place is merely a safe haven, somewhere they can meet without the externalities of their duties. It’s where they belong too.

It’s not a place where they could always stay, considering their work kept them away for long stretches of time. Rest could was usually sought in respite and not often vacation. Even still, whenever they found the time, Yukhei couldn’t slow his rapid heartbeat stepping onto the tiled path that led to the front door.

He knocks, even knowing it’s a place in which he’ll always be welcome. Maybe it’s because he likes to confirm that Jungwoo’s on the other side, or he wants to see exactly how Jungwoo’s face lights up when he answers the door. Yukhei thinks his face does something similar.

“Hey,” Yukhei says quietly. Even if he and Jungwoo are no longer connected the way they once were, he thinks that this is the way they were meant be together.

“I’ve been waiting,” Jungwoo says, a shadow of a smile still resting on his lips as Yukhei reaches for his hands. When Yukhei leans forward to make their lips meet he thinks he’s lucky to have found some peace in this eternity. He always worried about straying too far into the depths of hell’s gratuitous activities, but holding Jungwoo makes Yukhei feel an identical satisfaction.

It’s ironic, how his biggest indulgence is his simplest pleasure, but he knows this kind of happiness must be forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thanks for reaching the end of neither would suffice. as happy as i am that it's complete ngl i'm also a little sad it's all over. it's been a wonderful few months. whether you read by update or all at once, i hope you enjoyed the story. til next time!
> 
> feel free to drop any queries about the universe or ending in my cc!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ten7s) | [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/idlesong) | [wip list](http://sihyun.carrd.co#wip)


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